Demigods Undercover
by BlueDecembers19
Summary: Set in the summer after the Battle of Manhattan, Percy and Annabeth are back, going undercover to find unclaimed demigods and bring them to Camp Half-Blood. But the interesting twist...? They have to be teachers. Who is the father of the two demigods? And what is the twist in the plot?
1. Back to School

**Demigods Undercover**

_"Annabeth raised her head Olympus-wards and silently thanked the gods. Forty-five minutes break after the past hours of insanity teaching students was almost too much to hope for." Set in the summer after the Battle of Manhattan, Percy and Annabeth are back, going undercover to find unclaimed demigods and bring them to Camp Half-Blood. But this time, they have to pose as teachers._

**A/N: This is set in the summer after (therefore almost a year after) the events of _The Last Olympian_. Percy and Annabeth are finishing their junior year and are to start their senior year after the holidays. I know that they're supposed to be in their sophomore year but it didn't go with the plot so I've upgraded them. This is set in mid-May; around two weeks before summer vacation starts.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Percy Jackson and the Olympians._**

* * *

**Chapter I – Back to School**

**Annabeth**

The light afternoon breeze lightly rustled the hanging branches of the weeping willow. The canoe lake was a mirror stretching across – flat for once; apart from the occasional naiad breaking through the surface and the sound of sword on shields and practice sparring could hardly be heard from Annabeth's secluded spot.

Summer had come early that year. While it was only May, most of the campers who were not year-rounders had been an extra month of holidays mainly to train at Camp Half-Blood. Annabeth and Percy had snuck out in the temporary lapse of activities and the constant bustle of camp life.

Annabeth was sitting underneath an ancient weeping willow tree by the canoe lake, sketching a temple for Apollo for which he had requested for haikus of his own composition to be engraved onto the sides in Ancient Greek. She grimaced. His poetry really hadn't gotten any better. Percy was snoozing beside her, drooling lightly onto her shorts where his head was resting – the Curse of Achilles tired him easily. She leaned her head back against the trunk of the ancient tree and closed her eyes, enjoying the cool breeze and temporary calm and peace that had settled over camp.

Of course it wasn't going to last.

"Annabeth! Percy!" called Katie Gardner from the Demeter cabin as she sprinted over. "Chiron wants to talk to you. He says you need to be there as soon as possible."

Annabeth frowned and prayed to every god or goddess she could think of in that moment – which, being a daughter of Athena, was quite a lot – and prayed that it wasn't something that would ruin her break. "Come on Seaweed Brain, let's go."

"Mmph," he yawned, "five more minutes mom," he mumbled and flushed a deep scarlet when he realised where he was.

She rolled her eyes and smiled. Thanking Katie, they traipsed off to the Big House.

And that was how Annabeth found herself on the steps of Henry Arthur High School on Monday morning.

* * *

The stone steps of the school's entrance crunched beneath her feet as Annabeth ascended them. The broken crumbs of sandstone tumbling down in a cascade each time her foot connected with a step. _Dodgy craftsmanship, _she thought. At 8:00 am, the sun was already high in the cloudless sky and the air already humid and as sticky as melted cotton candy. Annabeth pulled on the collar on her white blouse as she entered through the school's revolving front door.

The cacophony of students lounging at their lockers and sharing weekend gossip was almost drowned out by the school bell which was almost as shrill as Grover's reed-pipe compositions – almost, but not quite. Annabeth attached herself to the flow of students heading towards first period world history mentally reviewing her plan for the lesson – and the backup plan if it went wrong.

She could hear snatches of conversations; " – awesome party last night dude! The enchiladas –"

"– And what did you get for your essay on –"

"– did you hear? Stacy and Kevin broke up! – "

"– Is that a new student? I've never seen her before, she's – "

"Shh… she might hear you – "

"– My god he is _so – "_

Arriving at the classroom, she found most of the class sitting already and cleared her throat to rouse some of the sleeping members. Before Annabeth could take a step forward a guy wolf-whistled but shrank back on the receiving end of her infamous death glare. Most of the students were staring at her now – with the exception of a few individuals still dreaming. Most of the class were awake though; the arrival of someone new probably broke the monotony of Monday morning first period World History.

Annabeth swept her gaze over the class, wondering which student was the demigod. All she knew was that his name was Simon. A tall guy sitting in the back row yelled, "New student!" as he smirked cockily and winked at her. "Come sit here babe and I'll show you around."

Annabeth raised an eyebrow and smirked right back at him. "Actually," she said, voice coated with fake sweetness, "I'm your substitute history teacher and I don't think that it's within the rules to address a teacher in that way." The guy almost fell off his chair in shock and she had to exercise extreme self-control to hold her laughter in. A few stifled giggles popped up around the class.

"Good morning class, I'm Miss Chase." She gave them her 'no nonsense' look that usually worked well on small children, her brothers and Percy. "Today we are studying Ancient Greece – Greek mythology, specifically." Annabeth surveyed the students seated in rows before her. "But first I need to take attendance." She scanned the list of students on the roll. _Damn dyslexia to rot in the depths of Tartarus. _

Her eyes scrolled down the list, calling them out until it came to rest on the last name on. "Simon Mason," she stated.

"Here," mumbled a guy with golden blond hair and caramel coloured eyes.

Annabeth's calculating grey gaze passed over him, analysing and processing. He looked vaguely uncomfortable.

She let her eyes wander away. "So, can anyone list any of the twelve Olympian gods?"

"There was: Zeus, Poseidon, Athena, Dionysus, Hades–"

"Hades isn't actually an Olympian god," corrected Annabeth, "can anyone tell me why?"

The guy who had answered slumped back into his chair with a disappointed look masking his face.

She smiled at him kindly, "good work though."

An Asian girl raised her hand. "Hades wasn't an Olympian god because he ruled in his own domain – the Underworld. The other Olympian gods were: Hera," – Annabeth gritted her teeth at that name – "Artemis and Apollo who were siblings, Hephaestus, Aphrodite, Ares, Demeter and Hermes."

"Correct, uh–?"

"Vivienne," she smiled. She had dimples.

"Right," said Annabeth. "Does anyone have any questions?"

"Are you single?" asked the same student who had whistled.

Annabeth glared at him witheringly. "That's none of your business. Let me rephrase my question. Does anyone have any questions about the Olympians?"

"Who's your favourite Olympian?" asked a melodious voice. Simon; the demigod.

"Athena," said Annabeth without missing a beat and with a small smile.

"Who's your least favourite?"

Annabeth's gaze hardened, her eyes grew cold and dark. "Hera," she forced out with a burning glare directed at the ceiling. Outside, thunder boomed and a smell of pomegranates suffused the air.* Some of the class looked slightly freaked out. She sighed, trying to steer her thoughts away from a certain annoying goddess of marriage and queen of the gods.

The bell rang, signalling the start of the next period. Annabeth gathered her folders and waited until Simon reached the front of the classroom. "Mr Mason," she said.

He turned around with a questioning look. "Yes?"

"I need to talk to you," she said, "can you come to my office after school?"

"Sure…" he said with a baffled expression and trailed through the doorway. She waited until the rest of the class had lagged out the door, gossiping and discussing the lesson before making her way to her next class. She wondered how she could ever survive the rest of the day.

* * *

Lunchtime. Annabeth raised her head Olympus-wards and silently thanked the gods. Forty-five minutes break after the past hours of insanity teaching students was almost too much to hope for. She placed the palms of her hands against the mahogany desk and leaned back against it. Closing her eyes, and tilting her head back, she didn't hear the footsteps until a familiar 'hey wise girl' interrupted her thoughts.

"So you finally decided to show up, huh?" she said in a mock-serious tone.

"Uh…" Percy trailed off as he leaned back against the wall. "I don't have a class to teach until this afternoon so I decided to come later?" His answer came out more as a question.

Annabeth rolled her eyes. "Just admit that you slept in and were too lazy to turn up until now."

Percy ran his fingers through his hair and Annabeth's heart did a little flutter. She cursed Aphrodite mentally. "That might maybe possibly perhaps be the case" he said, "so… how was your morning?"

She raised her eyebrows at his blatant change of topic but didn't comment. "Horrible. I feel sorry for my high school teachers now. But I did find one of the demigods. His name is Simon – he's a junior – like us. I've asked him to meet me after school."

"Uh, good, good," Percy said, trying to subtly rub the tiredness out of his eyes.

"Percy? Did you hear a single word I just said? Gods, don't tell me you're _still_ half asleep."

Percy smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, I did – I did. You found one of the demigods. I wonder who his godly parent is."

"Is that the only thing you're wondering?"

"What do you mean?" asked Percy, his brows furrowing in confusion.

Well," said Annabeth, arranging her files in a pile and gathering them into her arms. "Aren't you wondering why he's in his junior year but hasn't been claimed?"

"Oh… that didn't occur to me." A dark look spread across his face. "Styx!" he swore. Percy raised his head towards Olympus and yelled accusingly, "Got something you want to tell me, oath breaker?"

That unfortunately attracted some attention and most students stared as they wandered past the classroom. "Shh," said Annabeth, "you're drawing too much attention to yourself. Come on, let's go to lunch and after the day is over we'll IM Chiron."

Percy shook his head but not because of lunch. He allowed Annabeth to coax him out the door to the teachers staffroom, gripping onto her hand. "How did they manage to do so? They swore on the River Styx. And you say the demigod has a sister? When I get my hands on the god or goddess who did this –"

"Percy! You really think you can take on a god?"

"Well I did beat Ares when I was twelve."

Annabeth resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Still, I don't think you can beat a really angry god who can incinerate you just by looking at you."

Percy gulped. "Like your mother…" he muttered.

Annabeth raised an eyebrow but didn't comment.

"I still don't understand how they managed it," he said stubbornly.

She sighed. "Maybe there's something we don't know about, maybe there's some sort of loophole. Or maybe swearing upon the River Styx doesn't work on gods," she hypothesised. "I don't know, Percy but let's not dwell on it. We'll find out soon enough."

Reaching the cafeteria, Percy automatically grabbed a burger and coke and sat down at one of the tables, oblivious to the stares and whispers directed at him.

"Uh… Percy?" said Annabeth. "What are you doing?"

"What do you mean? I'm eating lunch."

"In the cafeteria?"

"So?" he mumbled, with a mouth full of burger. "What's wrong?"

This time Annabeth couldn't resist and rolled her eyes and huffed at him impatiently. "You really are dense Perseus Jackson."

He glared at her jokingly at the use of his full name.

"Seaweed Brain… we're teachers so we have to eat in the staffroom; the cafeteria's for students."

"Oh," he said. "Right, well… Let's go then." He looked disappointed.

"What's wrong Percy?"

He looked down at her sadly. "The coke's not blue."

Annabeth sighed. "What are we going to do with you, Seaweed Brain?"

* * *

* The pomegranate is a symbol of Hera and the only one that didn't sound weird in that sentence, I mean; "…and a smell of cuckoos suffused the air…" just doesn't sound right.

* * *

This idea I've had for a long time and now I've finally gotten around to writing it.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed or favourited or read my other story, _Let Me Go_. You guys made my day.

Constructive criticism is appreciated, so review please.

Thanks again,

Blue


	2. The Substitute Teacher

**Demigods Undercover**

**A/N: Wow, that was a really fast update… I never write this fast normally… Thank you to all who reviewed, favourited or read this fic. Thank you so much :) Enjoy this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Percy Jackson and the Olympians**_**; it belongs to the awesome Rick Riordan.**

* * *

**Chapter II – The Substitute Teacher**

**Simon**

Simon was having a perfectly nice morning until the giant dog attacked him. He had gotten up at seven, taken a shower and left for school at eight with his sister after saying goodbye to his mother. The two of them had taken a shortcut through a narrow, grimy alleyway to save time as they usually did when the dog-thing appeared suddenly. It was way larger than a normal dog and appeared to have fangs. _Fangs?_ Simon had thought. _Maybe it's a hybrid vampire hound._

Beside him, Roxanne stifled a scream and clutched onto his arm. Heart pounding, Simon had picked up a stick around the size and thickness of his arm and threw it with as much force at the _thing_ as possible. Surprisingly, the creature disintegrated upon contact, leaving behind a wafting odour of smoke and decay.

Shakily, he and Roxanne had continued on to school and Simon could not shake off the déjà-vu clinging to his clammy skin. He could also not quell the feeling of a looming disaster shadowing them. But other than that, Simon was having a perfectly boring morning.

It was a perfectly boring morning as he'd headed with only a glance at his sister whose expression was mirrored in his and a perfectly boring morning as he'd sat down in a perfectly boring history class with a perfectly boring teacher. Their teacher; Mr Crint was a rotund man with ruddy skin and a florid, pouchy face. He had watery, pale blue eyes that one could look at for more than a couple of seconds and fading, grayed rusty hair – the colour of dried blood streaked with dust. His voice was raspy and his lessons uninteresting which was the nicest possible way of saying it.

It was definitely a perfectly boring morning – that is, until, Mr Crint had failed to turn up and in his place, a girl who was pretty much his complete opposite ambled into the room. Her honey blonde hair was tied into a pony tail and her gray eyes scanned the room as if looking for someone. She was definitely the most beautiful girl Simon had ever seen; she was so effortlessly graceful and her eyes seemed to hold thousands of years of wisdom and a worldly sadness was hidden in them. But Simon couldn't help but believe that the new teacher and the attack in the morning were connected in some foreboding way.

He could hear the jocks in the room whispering to each other and grinning cockily. That is – until she had glared so ferociously at Evan Jones for wolf-whistling at her that Simon thought that if the girl could, the glare would have disintegrated Evan. Then, they learned that her name was Miss Chase and she was their substitute World History teacher. She shot the class a 'no nonsense' look so reminiscent of the nanny he'd had when he was five that he'd drifted off until the girl – uh, _teacher_ called his name for attendance.

"Here," he stated. The teacher's gaze focused on him, her gray eyes calculating but more curious than cold. Simon shifted slightly on his seat, uncomfortable. Miss Chase looked away and he slumped back into his chair, somewhat relieved and somewhat confused.

The teacher tucked a strand of honey blonde hair behind her ear and cleared her throat. "So, can anyone list the twelve Olympian gods?" she asked.

Losing the drift of the lesson, he dropped back into his reverie about his nanny. The last time he'd saw her; he was five and was playing with his sister, arguing over whose Lego toy was cooler. They'd gotten into a fist fight like they always did at that age until their nanny – Tatie* Méchante had stormed into the room, grabbed both of them by the back of their shirts and pulled them away from each other. She'd screamed at them for a while until the two of them hung their head in shame and Simon had actually been reduced to tears before she went to the kitchen to get them cookies as she felt sorry for them.

And then she'd turned into a leathery demon, tried to kill them with her talons, failed, then burst into flames and disappeared into wisps of smoke and a sprinkling of gray ash. When his mother had come home, she's found Simon and Roxanne sitting on the ground playing quietly both covered with a dusting of soot darkening their fair hair.

Sometimes Simon would think that he'd imagined the entire thing if not for Roxy who had confided in him that she'd had the same experience. They had never told another single soul.

He was dumped harshly into reality when something crashed onto his foot. "Styx!" he swore under his breath. _Styx? _He thought. _Where did that come from?_

He didn't dwell on it, however as Miss Chase was correcting a student and to pass history Simon decided it would probably be a good time to start to pay attention – especially since they actually had a competent teacher who didn't bore the students into oblivion.

"– That's none of your business. Let me rephrase my question; does anyone have any questions about the Olympian gods?" she forced out. It looked as if she was mentally cutting Evan Jones into a million little pieces.

"Who's your least favourite god or goddess?" he asked, surprising himself.

Miss Chase's eyes darkened. "Hera," she spat. Thunder rolled outside and some of the class looked vaguely frightened. _Coincidence?_ But it was cloudless outside. _Perhaps it's just a bin being rolled past the room. _Simon comforted himself.

He glanced up and saw Miss Chase glare at the ceiling with such a passion and such vengeance he couldn't help but feel sorry for it and wonder what it had ever done to her to deserve such hatred. That started another reverie… but somehow it was about cheese enchiladas. He could not see the connection. Interrupting his thoughts rudely, once again, was the bell.

Gathering all his books, he sped up as his friend Austin tapped his foot impatiently on the cold linoleum floor. "I'm coming, sheesh," he muttered. The tapping made him jittery; reminding him of his encounter with the vampire-dog that morning. They traipsed towards the front of classroom.

"What class do we have next?" Austin asked."

"Chemistry," Simon groaned. "I freaking hate Mondays."

"Same here, man."

As they passed the teacher's desk, Ms Chase looked up, pulling at a few stubborn tendrils of hair escaping from the hairband. "Mr Mason," she said.

She was really tall; they were around the same height. "Yes?" he said, confusing lacing his voice.

"Can you meet me in my office after school?"

"Sure…" he trailed off and then, being excused, rushed out the room to his next class.

* * *

"Sorry I'm late," he panted as he rushed into the laboratory.

"That's alright sweetie," crooned his chemistry teacher; Mrs Cross. Mrs Cross was a middle aged lady with graying, straggly brown hair and a tendency to go off topic. Very off topic. But none of the members of the class actually minded, it was more interesting hearing her talk about her herb garden or her opinions on environmental problems than about ionic bonds and cosine and tangent ratios. Wait no, that's maths.

The rest of Chemistry was spent in a dull monotony with Simon daydreaming – he seemed to be doing it a lot today – about Miss Chase. The only exciting event of the class was when Jenny Myers accidentally set her hair of fire and let out an Earth-shattering wail. Otherwise, it was just another Monday morning.

"So, what was that all about?" whispered Austin.

"What was what all about?" he retorted.

"You know, the new teacher talking to you after class…"

Simon sighed. "I don't know."

Austin looked bemused, "dude, what did she say to you?"

"She just asked me to meet her in her office after school. She looked really serious about it too."

"Huh. Wonder what she wants."

"Yeah…" Simon frowned. Why did she want to meet him after school? And why did she speak about the gods in present tense? Didn't they live like two millennia ago? The importance of that seemed to cling to him and he couldn't shake it off.

"Man, she's hot though." A mask of dreaminess was etched onto his features and Simon rolled his eyes but he wouldn't admit it but he did agree.

"Dude, she's a teacher," he reproached.

"Still, it's worth a shot. She can't be that much older."

He sighed and spent the rest of the day in blind tedium.

* * *

Lunchtime. Simon couldn't believe that it was finally lunchtime. _Finally, a break_. He thought jubilantly. As he traversed his way through the maze of corridors with Austin and James – another friend, Simon stayed uncharacteristically quiet; continuing to dwell upon the unusual events of the morning. Austin and James were discussing – or rather arguing over the new teacher.

"Seriously, you have no chance with her," James was saying.

"Just 'cause I don't have a girlfriend doesn't mean I can't pick up chicks**" Austin was defending himself, his face rapidly coloring to resemble a beetroot.

"Look she's there," Simon deadpanned.

Both of his friends' heads whipped around so fast their necks cracked and Simon had to stifle a snort.

But she was not alone. There was another guy in the classroom and they seemed to be flirting.

James raised an eyebrow at Austin as if to say _I told you so. _

Suddenly, the other guy in the room – the one with windswept black hair and shimmering, tumultuous sea-green eyes lifted his head heavenwards and yelled; a simmering rage and betrayal coursing in his words; "Got something you want to tell me, oath breaker?" The last two words were spoken with such vehemence Simon could feel the sting. He could have sworn he'd heard lightning crack when the guy yelled.

Something powerful was in the air. And something weird.

Something life-changing.

* * *

***_Tatie _is the French word for aunt (I think) in an informal manner. All of you guys who speak French, correct me if I'm wrong. And also I'm pretty sure méchant(e) means mean or nasty. I've got my huge French dictionary next to me right now, checking.**

****I'm not a guy so I have to guess how sixteen/seventeen year old guys talk to each other about girls. Weird…**

* * *

**Sorry, this chapter was kind of a filler chapter. The next one will be Percy! Yay! **

**Thanks for reading and please review. The more reviews I get the more motivation I will have to update. :)**

**Blue**


	3. Dolphins and Eagles

**Demigods Undercover**

**A/N: This is a ridiculously long chapter (for me that is). (Over 2,300 words excluding authors' notes.) I can't normally write this much but I'm getting better at it. Thanks to everyone who read or reviewed any of my other stories. And enjoy the chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Percy Jackson and the Olympians**_** or Justin Bieber's song **_**Baby**_** (you'll see why) – nor do I want to own it.**

* * *

**Chapter III – Dolphins and Eagles**

**Percy**

Percy was having a perfectly nice dream about swimming with a plethora of rainbow colored tropical fish, making an air bubble underwater and then Annabeth appearing out of nowhere and then – well, let's just say that Percy was having a perfectly nice dream. That is until his alarm had started blasting Justin Bieber's _Baby_ at maximum volume and he'd spilt an entire glass of orange juice that was on his bedside table all over the floor in his hurry to turn the screeching thing off. Percy made a mental memo to dump the Stolls in the canoe lake the next time he saw them.

Fortunately, being a son of Poseidon gave him water manipulation skills so he cleaned up the spilt juice with hardly any effort. Unfortunately, he only had power over water, therefore leaving behind a pile of dehydrated orange powder in a heap on his carpet. Percy groaned and flopped back onto his bed and desperately tried to re-renter his dream.

Percy dreamed that he and Annabeth were sparring on the beach in Camp Half – Blood. Just as he was going to deliver his final blow, she turned on her heel and pattered away, lifting great storms of sand. He spluttered like a gawping idiot, trying to banish the specks of sand in his mouth and chased after her. Her golden hair flopped and bounced as she ran and her laughter filled the air. Then, a ray of sunlight somehow hit her hair and reflected into his eyes, blinding him momentarily and he woke with a jolt, cursing Apollo as his dream slipped out of his grasp…

"Vlacas!" Percy cursed as he saw the beams of midday sun peering through the cracks of his blue curtains. He was supposed to meet Annabeth at the school at 8:30 a.m. which made him three hours late.

He rolled out of bed impressively and dressed in a rush. Unfortunately, it resulted in him trying to force his arms through the legs of his pants and unconsciously attempting to wrap his tie around his foot. Then, after each item of clothing was (hopefully) on the right parts of his body, he rushed out of his apartment and caught a bus to the school.

* * *

Percy looked upon the school in distaste. School was definitely not his most favourite thing in the world; having been expelled from many for things he couldn't control. He slipped into a memory of his second grade trip to the beach when he'd gotten super excited at the prospect of water and long story short, created a mini-tsunami resulting in an unexpected shower for his fellow students.

The fact that he'd been able to survive up to his senior year in the same school was an almost impossible feat – more difficult than the Herculean tasks in his opinion. As he ascended the crumbling steps of the school, Percy tried to formulate a plan to the lesson he was teaching in the afternoon. He was distracted, however, by the cookie-like crunching steps and went off about a reverie about lunch. _Damn ADHD to rot in the depths of Tartarus._ He thought and decided to just wing it.

Percy was strolling – or rather stumbling blindly through the twisting corridors when he turned a corner to the teachers' staffroom and heard a familiar voice. _Annabeth_. He smirked and leaned against the wall outside, waiting for the class to end. He stretched his long legs and crossed his arm, frowning at the distracting flickering light above him as the bell rang shrilly and all of a sudden a wave of students overflowed into the hallway. In the chaos known as lunch, no one noticed him and he slipped into the room after the last student straggled out.

Annabeth was standing behind her desk gathering her papers and tugging at a few annoying locks of hair that would not stay put. "Hey wise girl," he said, leaning against the wall.

She glanced up sharply, surprised and her hand flew to her hip where Percy knew her dagger was strapped. She raised an eyebrow and relaxed when she saw it was him. "So you finally decided to turn up, did you?" she said, taking a step forward and placing her hands on her hips in mock anger.

"Well…" he said, smiling sheepishly…

Long story short, after pissing the gods off even more by screaming at them and accusing them of breaking an oath, embarrassing himself by sitting in the cafeteria and being dragged out by Annabeth still disappointed about the color of his coke, Percy made his way to his first class of the day fuming.

* * *

Percy cursed Chiron mentally for making him teach. All he had wanted was a peaceful summer with Annabeth and his friends at camp after the disasters and chaos of the last five, but _no_ – he had to go and teach a bunch of teenagers not much younger than himself. At least he got to teach P.E. so he didn't have to try and read anything. Deciphering English words was another task fit for Hercules and actually Percy would rather slay the Nemean Lion again than try read. Arriving at the pool, he wrinkled his nose at the pungent odour of chlorine – he had never understood why people felt the need to contaminate perfectly nice water with chemicals; it killed any living creature (besides humans) that came into contact with it.

Reeling back into reality, Percy found most of the class watching him expectantly or gaping unashamedly. _Do I have something on my face?_ He thought and made a mental note to check his reflection in a mirror as soon as possible. "Uh… hi. I'm Per- Mr Jackson, your replacement physical education teacher."

He received a few 'hi's' in reply and grinned at them crookedly. "Alright," he said, rubbing his hands together. "Swimming's my favorite sport. Let's go."

The students were already changed into their swimming costumes* so he instructed them to take turns swimming laps while he went to change.

Complete utter chaos was waiting for him as he returned to the pool. Students were pushing each other into the pool, dunking one another underwater and generally wreaking havoc. Percy groaned inwardly and blew on his whistle, its shrill shrieking finally gaining him attention from the students. They looked up at him guiltily, frozen in the catastrophic acts they were doing seconds before.

Percy sighed. "Okay guys, please don't push each other into the pool; someone could get hurt. If you'd like, I'll teach you how to push someone into water safely."

Several members of the class laughed.

He grinned. "Well, according to the note from your usual P.E. teacher, you're working on butterfly. Let me give you a demo." Percy dived into the water, the cool water soothing his skin, brushing over him lightly and caressing his sides as it streamed along. He propelled himself along until he realised he had to breathe as not to attract suspicion and with great disappointment, lifted his head to do so.

"And that, is how you do butterfly," he said, beaming and hoisted himself out of the swimming pool.

An hour later, as the students left for their last period Percy mentally congratulated himself on a successful first lesson. Everything went alright – _proves to Annabeth that you don't always need a plan and a gazillion backup plans,_ he gloated.

"– Roxanne, what do we have next?" a girls voice asked. _Roxanne? Isn't that the name of Simon's sister?_

"Uh… French I think."

"Ugh. Je déteste le français!**" groaned the girl.

Percy whipped around. "Hey, are you Roxanne Mason? Simon's sister?" he asked.

"Yeah that's me," replied the petite blonde girl. "Can I help you Mr Jackson?"

_Mr Jackson? That's a new one, _he thought. _Normally I get called a lot of things like Seaweed Brain and Die demigod scum die! But Mr Jackson…_ He snapped out of his reverie – ADHD sucked.

"Yeah, um can you meet me in my office after school?"

"Oh sure," she said, confusion evident in her tone and woven into her features.

Phase one was complete and Percy felt the strain lift from his shoulders – metaphorically of course. This had got to be the easiest quest ever; no monsters whatsoever. And with that happy thought, he left to meet Annabeth.

* * *

Shaking his head to dry his hair slightly, Percy left the pool and headed to the office he shared with Annabeth – the substitute teachers' office. Leaving his hair surprisingly comfortably wet, he turned a sharp corner into the office. Annabeth was sitting at the solitary mahogany desk in the center of the room, bent over sheets of blueprints and complicated looking Ancient Greek texts. She didn't look up once as Percy entered the room and locked the door behind him; but scribbled over an algorithm and muttered to herself.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat, making his way to her desk. She didn't seem to hear him, or just ignored him. Frankly, Percy was beginning to feel a little neglected and he pouted playfully and then coughed loudly, twice.

"What do you want, Perce?" she said testily, keeping her eyes trained on her blueprints. Her hair was held up in a bun by a pencil.

"That's it?" he asked. "No how's your day? No warm greeting? No hello kiss? But I'm your boyfriend," he whined with the air of a five year old who'd just been denied ice-cream.

She glanced up, arching her thin eyebrows. "Fine, how was your day Percy?"

He grinned victoriously. "Oh, it was alright. I taught P.E. We did swimming."

"Yeah, I can tell," she said dryly. "Stating the obvious…"

Percy ignored her last comment. "And I found Simon's sister. Her name's Roxanne, she's a sophomore."

"Great. Now, I really need to get back to work," she said, bending back over her work and etching a rapid line of Ancient Greek on the edge of a complicated looking blueprint.

"I asked her to meet me. She'll be here soon."

"Uh huh."

Percy frowned at her disinterest. "Hey, Annabeth?"

"Mmmh?" she murmured distractedly.

"If you were an animal, what would you be?"

"Where in Hades did that come from, Seaweed Brain?" she asked in exasperation.

"Zeus knows, I'm just asking. Just answer the question," he grinned crookedly.

Annabeth sighed, settling back into her chair. "Well, I guess most people would expect me to say an owl because that's my mother's sacred animal but I don't think so… I don't know actually."

Percy faked a gasp. "Annabeth Chase doesn't know something!? Wow… Zeus must've enchanted pigs to fly."

Annabeth rolled her eyes. "Don't push it Percy."

He gulped and changed the subject hurriedly not wanting to be castrated by his dangerously temperamental girlfriend. "Hmm… I think you'd be an eagle."

"Really? Why?"

"Well, eagles are graceful, beautiful and terrifying. They are great fighters, a sign of wisdom and have a deadly kind of grace. Like you."

She looked at him with surprise and wonder. "Was that a complement, Seaweed Brain? I didn't know you were so smart."

"Was _that _a complement, Wise Girl? Gods, _thanks_." He replied sarcastically.

She smiled softly at him. "Sometimes even you can be smart, although Athena knows that that happens every once in a blue moon."

"The moon can turn blue? Cool."

"It's a figure of speech, kelp head."

"Hey! I was making a joke. Besides, that's what Thalia calls me. I don't like it." Percy whinged – back to the five year old countenance.

Annabeth smiled, rising out of her chair. "Thanks Percy," she whispered and kissed him lightly. "Besides, you started it by calling her Pinecone face. And then tried to dump an entire river on her."

"Well, she tried to electrocute me and zap me with her scary lightning fingers first." He whined, "but don't tell her I said that." He said, wrapping his arms around her waist and locking them, preventing her from escaping.

"_Per_-cy…" she groaned and pulled away.

"Anna-_beth_… you need a break," he echoed her tone. "Besides, what animal would I be?"

"You? Probably one of those dogs, you know, the tiny attention seeking ones that follow you around everywhere – who are extremely hyperactive and like to chase their own tails," she answered, laughing at his expression.

"What about a dolphin? You know, 'cause I'm friendly and like to swim."

Annabeth pretended to muse about it. "Well…" she said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "You _are_ friendly and Poseidon knows you love water, but I think dolphins are too intelligent for you to be one." She laughed at his scrunched up face and leapt out of her chair when he made a move to grab her.

"Stop being so immature, Perce!" she giggled.

"I'm immature? Really?" he yelled as he caught her around the waist and swung her around. "Really? You're the one who insulted me and ran."

"Put me down, Percy! I need to get back to work; I'm designing a temple for my mother."

"It can wait," he whispered against her neck.

"Percy…"

He hoisted her onto the desk so that she was sitting on the edge with her legs dangling over the sides. He pulled the pencil out of her hair and a honeyed waterfall cascaded down her back.

"That reminds me, I really need a haircut."

"Don't," he commanded. "I like it long."

"But it's so impractical; it keeps getting in the –"He cut her off by kissing her softly. She responded by tangling her hands in his floppy black hair as he pulled her closer by her waist. He could feel the heat radiating from her from under her blouse.

He groaned as she pulled away, running her fingers through her mussed up hair. "Stop, Percy. Simon and Roxanne are going to be here soon," she reprimanded.

"They can wait," he responded huskily and this time, Annabeth didn't resist.

He grinned triumphantly against her lips. That was one for Percy and um… around ten million for Annabeth. Oh well, plenty of time to catch up.

And then the door crashed open.

* * *

***I'm not sure what Americans call swimsuits/ swimming costumes.**

****I'm pretty sure that means 'I hate French' in French. Please correct me if I'm wrong.**

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I love writing (and reading) Percy and Annabeth's bantering; one of the things I missed most in **_**Son of Neptune**_**. Hopefully in the new book, they'll have plenty of their conversations. **

**Thanks so much for all the reviews and favourites! You guys are awesome! Also, in reply to toxicjade's review (who asked whether Leo, Nico or Grover was going to be in this story): No I didn't actually mention it before. Well, firstly, this is set a year after _The Last Olympian_ and _Heroes of Olympus_ hasn't happened yet - I moved it back a year for this to fit. So, unfortunately no Leo :( Which sucks because he's one of my favourite characters _but_ Nico, Grover and probably Thalia too will have a role in the upcoming chapters.**

**Reply to Dandelion and Daydreams's review: Thank you so much for your review (and your review on my other stories). I think I've answered some of your questions in the paragraph above. There will definitely be at least ten chapters but I wanted to draw the beginning out a little longer before them returning to camp and you'll find out Simon and Roxanne's parentage in a few chapters. I'll just go fix up any mistakes I've made right now... Oh and also, you made me laugh so hard saying that it was a short review - it was by far the longest review I have ever gotten so thank you for spending your time reviewing!**

**Also, I'm working on 'Americanising' my spelling and expressions (because I'm not American, duh) so if I make any mistakes, please tell me. Thanks.**

**Thank you for reading and review! (please) – The more reviews I get the more motivated I will be to update. (*hint hint…*)**

**Blue**


	4. Lockpicking and Eavesdrapping

**Demigods Undercover**

**A/N: I'm not particularly proud of this chapter; I had a bit of trouble with writer's block. I knew everything I wanted to write but it wasn't coming out onto the page. Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I did write a poem called **_**Whispered Promises in an Empty Night**_** which I posted yesterday. Anyway, enjoy the chapter. **

**Oh and, by the way, next chapter will have lots of Percy and Annabeth fluff :) **

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Percy Jackson and the Olympians **_**– Rick Riordan does. **

**Chapter IV – Lock-picking and Eavesdropping **

* * *

**Roxanne**

Shimmering droplets of water arced through the air, looping and flying like shattered shards of glass and plonking into the water with a small _plop._ The sound of water being sliced powerfully through – like a cascading waterfall enveloped the room, resounding off the tiled, blue walls. Long, lithe fingers of sunlight reached through the high windows, tapping the water and bouncing off in various directions and Roxanne, not unlike the rest of the class, leaned forward on the edges of their seats and watched with bated breath.

Twenty seconds later, the grinning face of their substitute teacher resurfaced, his dark hair plastered to his head and his vivacious green eyes sparkling with adrenaline. "And that is how you do butterfly," he announced, shaking his head like a dog to dry his hair.

Enthusiastic applause sprouted around the room and a few students cheered. But the single link between each student was the awe etched into their features either a little or full blown. Each of them was completely in awe of his swimming skills.

He laughed and shrugged the praises off and set them to work, doing laps and occasionally correcting their posture or technique. An hour later, eight laps each and thirty exhausted but smiling students later, the class finished, the students filing out grinning from the lessons work. Roxanne trailed behind her friend Jasmine who was complaining about her immense hatred for French, waving her hands about to articulate her statements.

Roxanne couldn't blame her. Mademoiselle Pénible was a tall, thin woman of over fifty; all skin and bones; angles and sharp corners. She never smiled. Her hair was dyed a peroxide blonde unlike Roxanne's own natural platinum blonde and her pressed, flat lips were always smeared with lipstick, highlighting her yellowing teeth like two rows of lichen covered, crumbling tombstones. Her voice was raspy and sharp and she issued detentions at the slightest offence.

Roxanne was about to comfort her friend in some way when a lean figure blocked their way. At around 6'2", Mr Jackson towered over them and he smiled widely down upon them. "Hey, are you Roxanne Mason? Simon Mason's sister?" he asked.

Bafflement flowed through her. "Uh, yeah," she replied, her voice echoing slightly in the ambience of the tiled room. "Can I help you Mr Jackson?"

For some reason, he looked as if he were about to laugh. _I guess he's only a few years older than us; maybe it's off being talked to so formally._ Roxanne thought calmly. On her other side though, Jasmine was staring between her and their teacher rapidly, mouth slightly open Roxanne turned her head and arched an eyebrow as if to say _oh yeah? What's up?_

Mr Jackson snapped out of his reverie suddenly. "Uh yeah, um could you meet me in my office after school?" His laughing eyes were very green and somehow very powerful.

"Um, sure…" she replied. What was going on?

* * *

French was definitely not Roxanne's favourite subject, the words liked to tap-dance, swirl and do Mexican waves all around the page when she tried to decipher it; not unlike English. She was told that this was called _dyslexia_ and not unheard of and not to worry about it – it wouldn't hinder anything, although she begged to differ. She tried to pay attention but the sharp words Mademoiselle Pénible was saying_ – _words like auxiliary and participle and _avoir _and _être_ poked at her brain, increasing the headache she was already getting from the teacher's pointy voice and French grammar. The teacher tapped her long manicured talons on the board and rasped on.

"_Psst,"_ someone hissed beside her.

"What do you want Jas?" she asked irritably, the high pitched hissing adding to the strain of French class.

"Why d'you think Mr Jackson wanted to see you?" Her eyes were dancing with excitement.

"Dunno," she replied dully, leaning her hand against her cheek and absentmindedly doodling over her maths notes. Her hair was dripping uncomfortably down the nape of her neck and into her shirt.

"Maybe he _liiiiikes _you…" Jasmine trailed off suggestively.

"Really Jassy? We're not in middle school anymore." The air in the classroom was stifling and Roxanne felt as if someone was compressing her into a tiny box.

"Well why did he ask you to meet him after school, then? Huh?"

_Was that a hint of jealousy in her tone?_ She thought to herself. "Maybe my P.E. is just that bad," she responded listlessly.

"Well –"

"Girls! Tais-toi and repeat after me; _Elle est mort._"

"What does that mean?" Jasmine asked, sneaking furtive glances at the teacher.

"I think it means 'she died'. God, who knew French lessons could get this morbid…" she mumbled. Death, she thought, was curious. The smells of death, rotten apples, sulphur, dust and a cloying sweetness like chloroform. These she'd all detected this morning, when the thing attacked. She had been trying to forget about that experience all morning, but it kept coming back like one of those revolving carousel things, over and over again.

If only she could've discarded it as an illusion or a hallucination from too much sun or sugar or the lack of sleep she had received as a consequence of staying up to finish an assignment. But Simon had seen it too and that made all the difference. And now, this new teacher had turned up, completely out of the blue, out of the ordinary and with utterly extraordinary skills. There was something foreboding about that, that she pondered perhaps not to go.

* * *

"Simon!" she gasped as she ran headfirst into her brother, on her hurried exit out of the classroom.

"Hey Rox. Sorry 'bout that. Ready to go home?" he asked.

"Um… I need to go somewhere," she said.

Simon ran a hand through his curls. "Oh, same here."

Roxanne arched her brows in surprise. "Oh," she replied, slightly befuddled. "Where?"

"You first."

"No you first."

"No _you_ first."

She rolled her eyes at his childishness. "Fine," she huffed. "Mr Jackson wants to see me in his office."

Simon frowned in confusion, small lines furrowing his brows. "Who's that?"

"Mr Jackson? He's my substitute P.E. teacher I had today."

"Does he have dark hair and green eyes?"

"Yeah, why?" she asked.

"It's nothing. Just that I saw a guy here this morning who I'd never seen before."

"Huh. Okay, well what d'you need to do?"

"Oh, um Miss Chase wants to see me."

"And she is…?"

"New teacher. Tall, blonde and teaches history."

"Well, I wonder why they want to see us."

"I really have no idea."

They turned a corner to the office, narrowly avoiding Macy Jameson; the school's biggest gossip and neither of them really wanted to deal with her nosy questions and overeager smiles. On the wall, pinned to a large corkboard, were several pieces of paper each detailing an extracurricular activity; fencing, swimming and interpretative dance. _Oh…kay… _she thought. _Interpretive dance? _

"We're here," said Simon, snapping Roxanne out of her reverie. He raised a hand and knocked three resounding taps. There was no answer.

"Try opening the door," she said.

"It's locked."

Roxanne cocked her head slightly. "Oh _really_, I didn't notice," she drawled.

Simon gave her an irritated glare. "Shut up."

"Fine. _But…_ I have something…"she trailed off.

He huffed. "What is it?"

She grinned mischievously. "Lock picking, my favorite thing to do."

"Roxy," he warned. "I really don't think –"

_Click._ She grinned triumphantly up at him. Straightening up, she pushed open the door…

"Oof," someone grunted.

"Percy!"

The sound of tumbling books and someone falling very uncomfortably onto their behind, reverberated around the stark, white room.

Miss Chase was glaring at Mr Jackson, the fury in her eyes slightly diminished by laughter and embarrassment.

Mr Jackson was smiling sheepishly down at her. "Um… hi…" he said to them. Miss Chase just put her head in her hands and groaned.

* * *

New York traffic conditions at their best were terrible and the snaking trail of cars; red, white, blue and the bright yellow cabs were at an absolute standstill. The four of them navigated their way through swamps of people, clumps of cars and an angry man walking a dog. Percy and Annabeth's constant bickering did not soothe at all the consistent throbbing in Roxanne's temples.

"Just shut it, will you two?!" she hissed.

They huffed then felt silent; Annabeth crossed her arms and glared at the ground. Roxanne expected the ground to split in two from the vehemence in Annabeth's eyes. But a minute later the pair of them were laughing and smiling at each other, holding hands. Simon shot her an exasperated look and she rolled her eyes back at him.

As they entered the cool alleyway, she stiffened and she could feel Simon tense beside her.

"Is there something wrong?" asked Annabeth.

She glanced at her brother wondering if they should tell her. "Uh, no," said Roxanne. "It's just that here's the precise spot we were attacked by a giant undead canine of hell or something this morning."

"Hades," Annabeth murmured distractedly.

"Sorry?"

"Oh it's nothing. You said you were attacked?"

Simon intervened. "Roxy we don't know if what we saw was even real –"

Roxanne rounded on him, her petite frame shaking in suppressed fury. "How can you say that? I know what I saw; I know what _you _saw. It was this giant thing which tried to kill us and then just – just _evaporated_."

Annabeth and Percy exchanged a worried glance.

The alleyway smelt dank and dusty as they passed and Percy halted without warning causing a domino effect, a couple of 'oofs' and a sharp 'Seaweed Brain!' from Annabeth. Percy however, did not reply and instead bent down, his dark blue jeans brushing the dirt encrusted ground in the process and reached out to pick something up. From his crouched position on the damp ground he held the object up to the light and his eyes met Annabeth's; a silent conversation passed between them causing Roxanne to look away, not wanting to intrude on such an intimate moment.

The object was a needle shaped piece of ivory, thick at one end and tapering to a sharp point at the other – which was the color of dark ebony. It was around the length of her pinky finger. Percy slowly unfurled, standing to his full height, his eyes masking something deep and resonating, something akin to determination with a glimmer of fear. He cleared his throat, trying to diffuse the tension, pocketing the thing and setting off again.

"What _is_ that?" she asked, struggling to catch up to his long strides.

"A bone," Annabeth replied shortly.

"What do you mean a bone? What is it supposed to –"

"Look, you'll find out soon, alright? We just really need to talk to your mother."

She fell silent and stayed silent uncharacteristically for the remainder of the journey back to their small apartment.

* * *

"Mom, we're home!" yelled Simon as he usually did. A warm scent of baking choc chip cookies wafted into the entrance corridor. She glanced over to see that her brother and Mr Jacks- er, _Percy_ were drooling, both wearing the same vacant expression. Annabeth shot her a slightly amused and slightly exasperated glance.

Her mom came bustling out of the kitchen. "Hi dears, how was school –" she stopped rather suddenly, spotting the two strangers. "Oh, um, you are?"

Annabeth stepped forward, stretching out a hand for her to shake. "Annabeth Chase, ma'am. I'm Simon's world history teacher."

"Percy Jackson, nice to meet you."

Ms Mason looked flabbergasted. "Nice to meet you too," she said shakily, pressing her palm against her forehead. "Would you mind if I asked what is going on here? Is everything alright at school? Are they in trouble?"

"No, ma'am, I assure you everything is fine," said Annabeth. "But we do need to have a talk with you please. Privately."

"Er, sure, right this way please. Would you like anything? Water, tea, coffee?"

"Water would be great," said Annabeth with a small smile.

"Coke please," said Percy. "Blue, if you don't mind." _Blue?_ Roxanne thought. _Odd choice for a drink._

"Ow!" Percy grumbled as Annabeth glared at him disapprovingly.

"You don't just go randomly asking people for blue coke," she reprimanded. "And I know that didn't hurt, Perseus Jackson so don't try making me feel guilty."

He pouted. "Stupid curse of Achilles…" he muttered. _Curse of the what what? _

Her mother came in, balancing two cups on a tray and some homemade cookies. "Roxanne and Simon, go to your rooms please."

* * *

"Hey Si, you wanna know what they're sayin'?" Roxanne asked, absentmindedly tapping her fingers against the wooden frame of her bed. She turned her head from her laid down position on her bed, watching him pace around her cramped room.

He flopped onto the paper-littered ground with a huff, narrowly missing a couple of odd socks, some gum wrappers and a sharp pin. "Gosh, you're such a slob," he mumbled.

She rolled her eyes. "Not everyone has to be a neat freak like you. Anyways, let's go eavesdrop," she said, grinning mischievously.

They crept silently past the creamy corridor, each creak they made was deafening in the silence.

" – father,"

" – need to know – "

"I'm sorry but I cannot tell you." That was their mother, her voice shaking through the thin walls.

"You don't know or you won't tell us?" a female voice asked.

_Tell them what?_ She mouthed to her brother, in which he replied with a typical one-shouldered shrug.

" – demi – "

"No," her mother said, her voice steely and determined.

"Look, they need… attacked… protection."

"I will not have it. Please leave now."

Simon and Roxanne glanced at each other, eyes wide and dove back into the sanctuary of her room.

What was going on?

* * *

**Can anyone guess what the thing Percy picked up was?**


	5. A Typical Date, Not

**A/N: Yes! 3,000 words! Longest chapter so far. Sorry about the wait, I had a really hectic, exam-filled week. Anyway, enjoy the chapter :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own (and will probably never own) **_**Percy Jackson and the Olympians.**_

* * *

**Chapter V – A Typical Date… Not. **

**Annabeth **

The aroma of blue, chocolate-chip cookies wafted through the painfully claustrophobic corridors of Percy's apartment. And Percy, with his super-enhanced olfactory receptors, stiffened at the smell, closed his eyes in ecstasy and suddenly bolted to the door as if his life depended upon it – which it kind of did. Annabeth didn't know what Percy would do if he didn't have his mother's baking in his life.

The slightly weathered, wooden door swung pathetically on its newly oiled hinges, slowly and sadly coming to a stop. Annabeth pushed through into the room, wearing a highly amused expression. "Seriously, Seaweed Brain?" she smirked. "One would think you hadn't eaten anything but rats for the past ten years." Annabeth closed the door behind her and sat down on a plush chair, next to the plate of freshly baked cookies.

"Achts achoolee tack got bact," he said eloquently, pieces of chewed up cookie flying around.

Annabeth raised an eyebrow. "Say, what now?" Although she had grown up amongst _a lot_ of half-brothers at camp, and she had mastered their 'mouth-full-of-food' talking, being able to translate almost anything, Percy was a different matter altogether. "Gross," she joked.

"I said," Percy said, swallowing his last bite, "rats actually taste not that bad." He stood up, brushing crumbs off his shirt and stretched languidly.

Annabeth looked up at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "One, that's really bad grammar, and two, you would know that, how…?" she asked.

"Uh…" he said, eyes darting around the room shiftily. "I gotta go do something. Be right back!" he yelled, kissing her on the cheek lightly, before rushing off, leaving a trail of blue crumbs in his wake. They clashed horribly with the beige carpet.

Annabeth stood up and rolled her eyes at his retreating back. _Typical Percy behaviour,_ she thought, gathering the plates and taking them over to the kitchen to wash.

"No need to wash up, sweetie. I got it," said a voice from behind her.

Annabeth spun around, a wide smile on her face. "Sally!" she said, wiping her wet, soapy hands on her ripped and torn dress.

"Hi Annabeth," she said, embracing her. "So, how was your date?"

* * *

"So…" Percy said, as they walked hand in hand through the busy streets of Manhattan, "what shall we do on this fine evening?"

Annabeth yanked her hand out of his and crossed her arms in mock anger. "Really, Percy? When a gentleman asks a lady out on a date, she expects him to _actually_ have some plan of the evening sorted," she said in a posh accent. "And no, winging it does not count as a plan."

He ran his hand nervously through his hair, sending a series of flutters through her heart – not that she would ever, ever admit that fact to him. Even if she was being chased by a fifty-headed, fire-breathing hydra, or if she had to face Kronos again, or even if Luke – well, you get the point. She stalked past him without another glance.

"Okay, okay! I have an idea."

"What?"

"It's a surprise, come on."

* * *

"_Wrath of the Titans?_ Really? Do you know how horribly inaccurate that movie is?" Annabeth said, glaring at him. They had watched _Clash of the Titans_ in class, the year before as part of their World History class – the Ancient Greece unit.

"Exactly," he said, grinning, "we can laugh about how horrible it is, and later at dinner, we can argue about which parts were worse."

Annabeth pretended to muse about it. "That's actually not that bad an idea…" she said. "Come on, then."

Percy grinned goofily. "Yay, I win. One for me, and uh…"

"A billion or so for me, from saving your butt all the time."

He poked his tongue at her playfully.

"Oh, and by the way," she said, "it is incredibly cliché and an utterly stereotypical date. I had more hopes in you, Percy. Dinner and a movie, really?"

"Well, I thought maybe you would like to do something normal and uh, what was it? Utterly stereotypical for a change, after teaching a bunch of teenagers hardly younger than us, finding two new demigods and pretty much getting kicked out of their house by their mom. Oh, and, the last five summers before that. Need I go on?"

"Good point," she acknowledged, "maybe you aren't as dense as you look."

"Thank you," he said, until the meaning of what she said dawned on him. "Hey!" he yelled chasing after his giggling girlfriend who had already slipped into the darkened cinema, lost within the labyrinth of plush, velvet seats and clusters of mortals who didn't know a single thing about Greek mythology.

* * *

The glimmering candlelight winked flirtatiously, white globules of wax winding around the slender candle to the base, slowly. The dim lighting of the restaurant penetrated the darkened night outside. An intoxicating aroma of stir-fry foods drifted around, and Annabeth breathed in deeply. Clusters of other couples were seated around the restaurant, grouped around small, square tables covered with lacy, white tablecloths and glinting silverware.

An elderly, Asian man directed them to their tables with a toothy smile. "Boon appa-chee," he said, walking away.

Percy stared quizzically after him. "Uh, what? Is that Chinese?" he asked, as they took their seats beside the window, the city lights glimmering. The sounds of the city barely penetrated the small room.

Annabeth stifled a laugh, although her eyes shone with suppressed mirth. "I think he said 'Bon appétit, like the French." She pushed a stubborn strand of hair back, and wondered why she hadn't tied it up as she usually did. _Right,_ she thought. _To impress Percy, not like his incredibly dense, Neanderthal-like mind would ever get it._

"Oh…" he said, trailing off. He leaned back into the intricately carved wooden chair.

Their waiter came. "Hi, I'm Andrew," he said, "and I'll be your server today. What would you like to order?" He had a vaguely Chinese accent. She noticed he was only talking to her though, completely ignoring Percy, although they were plainly holding hands above the table. He didn't comment, though. "Could I recommend the fried dumplings?" he said, winking languorously at Annabeth, "Or the stir fried chicken?"

Annabeth glared at him plainly. She was about to reply with one of her usual, scathing comments but Percy beat her to it. His normally easy-going eyes were pulsing with simmering rage. His voice was clipped and radiating with power. "Look here," he forced out of his gritted teeth, "you say one more thing to her, and you'll wish you'd never been born."

The waiter gulped. "Yes, sir," he muttered. "What will be for dinner?"

Annabeth arched her eyebrows at Percy. "I'll have wontons, thanks," she said. "You?"

"I'll have the rice noodles," he said, keeping his eyes trained on her. The waiter nodded and left.

"What was that?" she asked him, extricating her hand from his and crossing her arms over her chest, staring at him pointedly.

He leaned forward in his seat. "Sorry," he mumbled, abashed.

"S'alright," she said, smiling slightly. "I like it when you take initiative every now and then."

He grinned at her, his eyes sparkling in mischief. _Uh oh,_ she thought. It was never good when Percy got that look in his eyes. He signalled to the waiter, still smirking almost triumphantly at her.

"Percy…" she warned.

He ignored her and her steely glare, carving into his chest. "Two flutes of champagne, please," he grinned up at the waiter from his slumped position on the chair. Even at a time like that, Annabeth could still notice that he had _atrocious_ posture.

"Are you twenty one –?" Percy snapped his fingers below the man's chin. "Oh, that appears to be in order, sir." He left, eyes slightly hazy, stance slightly drunk.

"Percy!" she half yelled. A few people turned in their seats, but Annabeth didn't notice – she was too busy glaring at a certain son of the sea god, who was soon going to die a long, painful death. The aforementioned son of Poseidon had the grace to look frightened and slightly pathetic with his puppy-dog eyes.

"Come on, Annabeth… Live a little."

"May I remind you that, one, alcohol will not help in any way, shape or form if a monster attacks," she hissed. "It's the most idiot inducing, horrible _thing_ that renders you completely and utterly redundant. No alcohol," she stated with finality.

Percy just smirked, causing Annabeth to growl with fury, shooting her death glare at him; slitted, gray eyes radiating fury. Percy gulped, changing tack. "Please…" he pouted. "Just this once; we haven't been attacked in ages," he begged. "Loosen up a bit…"

"No."

"Come on…" he trailed off, grabbing onto her hand, and rubbing slow, soothing circles on her hand. "Just this once…"

Annabeth leaned back and closed her eyes, groaning. Why did Percy have to be so annoying, yet persuasive? "Ugh," she ground out. "Ugh, ugh, ugh." She sighed, regretting her decision already. "Fine," she stated, "but only _one_ drink. One."

Percy grinned triumphantly.

* * *

"Um… Annabeth?" Percy said; worry shimmering in his green eyes. "I think our waiter's a monster."

"You think?" she asked sarcastically. "What was your first clue? The glowing eyes? The fangs? Or the way he just hissed; die demigod scum, die!'?"

"Um… all three?" he stated, which really came out more of a question. He took a deep breath. "Okay, on the count of three; one… two…"

"AHHHHHH!" The customers in the restaurant, well what was left of them, screamed with pure, unadulterated horror, rushing out of the exit, and, in one man's case, out the window.

"I guess it's too late to say three now…" Percy said.

Annabeth rolled her eyes. "Go!" she yelled, slipping on her Yankee's cap. She ran towards the waiter – _er_ monster. Well, the waiter who had suddenly morphed into a sickly yellow, scaly, green-eyes monster that was about ten feet tall. Its spiked tail lashed around, crumbling walls and sending pieces of stone flying. Annabeth managed to slip behind it, and drew out her dagger. Her dagger flashed menacingly in the light as she climbed onto the monster and stabbed it between two, iridescent scales. It howled in agony, shaking her off. She flew into a wall and lay in a crumbled heap.

"Annabeth!" Percy yelled, trying to fend off the monster.

"I'm fine," she croaked, her head spinning hazily, her vision becoming double. A warm, fuzzy feeling swept over her as she slumped backwards. _Must be the after-effects of the alcohol,_ she thought, before the blackness seeped into her vision and the world faded away…

* * *

The lone, pearly moon cast shimmering beams down onto the lake, reflecting on the lake that was as dark as a pool of black, liquid onyx. The light breeze shivered, whistling through, and the dry leaves of a small juniper tree rustled scratchily. Annabeth and Percy settled beneath a solitary weeping willow tree, its overhanging branches swaying gently. The soft blades of grass were slightly damp, and the fresh aroma of rain wafted around. The city lights reflected off the obsidian water, glimmering and glinting; the growling of traffic could barely be heard on the other side of the lake in the solitary, little stretch and the slightly sweet scent of shimmering droplets of sprinkling rain, mingled with the taste of the dark, dark night.

Annabeth rested her head on Percy's shoulder as he dug around his pockets for a square of ambrosia. Finding it, he delicately nibbled off a corner and offered some to her, before placing it back. Annabeth sighed in contentment. "This is nice…" she said. Quiet nights like those – yes, getting attacked by a monster dressed as a waiter did count as quiet, as for demigods, especially children of the Olympians, had really strong scents, and one monster in a night constituted as 'quiet' – were hard to come by.

"Hey Annabeth," said Percy, his voice muted in the dim night.

"Yeah?" she murmured sleepily, hazily, trying to keep her eyes open.

Percy smiled softly. "Did you like the champagne?" he asked quietly, speaking into her dark, blonde hair, his voice muffled.

"Hmm…" she trailed off. "Wait," she said, jolting awake suddenly, her head clearing off the haze, back to its original logical, clear stance – the ambrosia was kicking in. "You!" she forced out of her gritted teeth, images of the night coming back to her in flashes. "You! Oh, no you didn't!"

Percy's slightly panicked expression told it all. Guilt, mingled with paralysing fear was etched onto his face. He started pushing himself up, backing away, and pushing his hands before him as a gesture of peace. She wasn't having any of that. "Annabeth…" he pleaded.

"Don't you 'Annabeth' me!" she growled, lunging at him. "You deliberately got me drunk! You knew! You find it _funny_." That last word she spat out with so much fury, Percy could have sworn Hades was quivering in his throne in the Underworld. "You didn't even drink any; it was all a game to you!"

Percy had faced many, many monsters in his short life, from a deranged Cyclops who was trying to marry Grover, a hyperborean giant, a couple of fire-breathing empousai and the scariest Titan of them all; Kronos. He wished he could say he had the same courage when facing his extremely irate, 'about to gut and castrate' him, girlfriend, but the truth was, he ran away, squealing like a little girl.

Annabeth's enraged snarl echoed menacingly as she advanced upon him. Percy turned and bolted. "Perseus Jackson, when I get my hands on you!" she screamed, chasing after him. Unfortunately, running in heels – even two inch heels and a dress was not easy, so Annabeth, being the logical one who always had a plan, leaned down, pulled off her shoes (which could be used as a weapon on Percy), and ripped up the sides of her dress, freeing her legs. She sprinted after him, screaming bloody murder.

The grass beneath her feet, slippery and wet, squeaked as she ran, gaining on him slowly. The next second, she was lying flat on her back, completely winded with her breath constricted by something pressing down on her chest. She hacked a cough.

"Annabeth! Are you alright?" yelled Percy, grasping her arm, searching for a pulse. His panicked, sweat-beaded face clipped into focus above her. The weight suddenly lifted.

"Hey, Annie," a voice drawled, somewhere next to Percy, and something slobbery licked her face. It felt like a waterfall of drool – which, unfortunately, it was. "Mrs O'Leary!" reprimanded the same voice.

Annabeth sat up, wincing at the pain in her back and on her chest. "Nico?" she coughed, her voice scratchy.

"Sorry 'bout that."

"Don't. Call. Me. Annie."

Nico gulped. "You can't do anything to me! My dad's Hades, you can't kill me."

"No…" Annabeth drawled, imitating his previous tone, whilst trying to hide the pain lacerating her voice, "but I can make you feel pain… the most horrible, excruciating, unimaginable pain," she threatened, drawing herself up to her full extent, towering over him and wincing as the pain spiked up her side and coursed through her veins.

"Sorry…" he said. He snapped his fingers, "Mrs O'Leary, come." Mrs O'Leary came bounding over jovially, wagging her punching bag-like tail and sticking her gym mat sized tongue out happily.

"Wait, Nico," said Percy, "what are you doing here?" he asked pointedly.

"Dude," said Nico, "you should be thanking me; I just saved your butt by intervening."

"Right… Thanks…" muttered Percy, "that still doesn't explain why you're here."

Nico sighed and sat down on the rain laced grass. He grabbed a fallen tree branch and threw it with all his might in the opposite direction, and Mrs O'Leary bounded after it. "That should buy us some time," he said. "Anyway, I came 'cause of Chiron's orders."

Percy arched an eyebrow, "So, what did he say?"

"He said you need to get the two demigods to camp as soon as possible. And he was really serious about it, too. His face was all grave and serious and like, he muttered something about gods and fighting and stuff. I wasn't really listening though." Nico stretched comfortably from his place on the ground.

"That's it?" asked Annabeth. "Is that all he said? Nothing else?" She tugged at her curving strand of gray, as she usually did, when thinking. "I wonder why it's so urgent… Well, besides the monsters and everything, but we can protect them for the time being."

"Well, it's probably safer for them at camp, even if it is us who are protecting them. Maybe he thinks we'll slip up," Percy offered.

"No, that's not it," Annabeth countered. "It still doesn't explain the whole god war thing. And Chiron isn't normally that urgent about demigods. I mean, he had Grover look after you for ages before you actually made it to camp," she said, pacing around, still holding her shoes which she now tapped on the ground, in a rhythm to help her think. "There's something he's not telling us," she decided with finality.

Nico stood up and climbed on Mrs O'Leary, who had trundled back, holding her newfound treasure delicately in her slobbery jaw. "Oh, by the way; I nearly forgot; I think you have something of mine, Perce."

Percy knitted his eyebrows. "What could I possibly have that's yours?" he asked.

"Let me give you a clue," Nico deadpanned. "It's small, black and white and bony."

"Oh…" said Percy, realization dawning upon his features. "Right," he said firmly, digging through his pockets. "Here you are," he offered. "By the way, what is it?"

Nico smirked, "That's for me to know and you to find out." A shimmering halo of light appeared, and seconds later, Nico had melted into the shadows, and disappeared.

The solitary moon shone and the dark lake ripped, as the hanging branches of the weeping willow whispered, in the shadowy night.

* * *

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Okay, for this chapter, if you review, I will review one of your stories, does that sound good? Or, alternatively if: (a) you haven't written anything, (b) you are a guest reviewer or (c) you don't want a review from me, you may submit an idea/request for a drabble which I will then write and dedicate to you, okay? :)**

**Thanks,**

**Blue**


	6. Trigonometry and an Old Friend

**A/N:** It's been a while… Sorry, guys. Thanks for sticking with me :)

Oh, by the way, I got a review saying that this chapter couldn't be found. I guess that would explain why no one was reading it... Hopefully this works.

**Disclaimer:**I don't own _Percy Jackson and the Olympians._

* * *

**Chapter VI – Trigonometry and an Old… Friend… **

**Percy**

"Maths!?" Percy yelled at the top of his lungs. The windows and glass objects in the room rattled, close to shattering. "No, no, no…" he mumbled, furiously pacing around, holding his throbbing head in his hands.

Annabeth sighed with a maddening air of patience. "Percy, it's just one lesson," she said consolingly. It did not appear to have any effect on him.

"I can't teach maths!" He was practically hyperventilating.

Annabeth stood up, placing her blueprints carefully on the seat beside her. "Look," she said soothingly. "All you have to do is; go in, take attendance, set them the given work and then sit and daydream – which we all know you're good at."

"Thank– hey!"

She smirked. "Seriously, though. It's easy. Besides, English would be _way_ worse."

"Fine," he grumbled.

* * *

The glaring sun pierced into the classroom, and the loud, rowdy racket of the students thundered. Percy trudged into the room, his usually mussed hair even more unkempt.

"Hey, I'm Per- Mr Jackson. So…" he said, trying – but failing to keep his voice cheery and optimistic. "What are you learning in maths right now?" he asked, receiving many blank stares in return. "Uh… can anyone tell me? Does anyone _know_?"

"Trig," replied one student.

Percy stared blankly back, blinking several times in succession. "Say, what now?"

"Trigonometry?" said the student, "like, as in the triangles stuff…"

"Trig-a-what-what?" he said. _Sounds Greek,_ he thought.

"It's a Greek word."

_Oh, well that explains it…_ "Um… and uh… do you have any work that needs to be done?" he asked. The swelling heat in the room was making it hard to concentrate, and the air was thick, oppressive and almost tangible. And, to make things worse, the class pretty much ignored him; screaming and yelling obscenities at one another.

_Screw maths,_ he thought furiously. "Shut up!" he yelled. The class quieted, their expressions ranging from scared to completely, mindlessly bored. "Okay, well – "

"Hey, Kelp Face," called a teasing voice from the doorway.

Percy spun on his heel, his battle reflexes taking over as he instinctively pulled Riptide out of his pocket. "Thalia," he spluttered, "What are you doing here?"

She smirked. "You going to attack me with that pen?" The class tittered, and Percy glared furiously at her.

"Class, this is Miss _Grace_."

Thalia glared at him with narrowed slits for eyes. "Just Thalia," she said, through gritted teeth.

"Are you going to answer my question?" he asked, as he crossed his arms across his chest, staring pointedly at her.

Thalia grinned lopsidedly, and leaned casually on the paint-peeling walls. "Annie asked me to come… She thought you might need some help." She played with a strand of jet black hair nonchalantly. "It turns out she was right," she smirked.

Percy rolled his eyes. "One, Annabeth would not appreciate it if she knew you called her 'Annie,' and two, I'm doing perfectly fine without your help!"

"Well, one, _Annie_ doesn't mind if I call her that, besides, she'll never know. And two, stop deluding yourself, fish boy."

"Fish boy?! What kind of name is that? By the way, you're telling me that you came _all _this way just to help me with this one class?"

"Actually, Chi- _er,_ Mr C. told me to come here yesterday. Seems he thinks you two – or rather just you, really – aren't competent enough. Besides, I think that the message that our _dearest_ cousin Nico brought you yesterday hasn't really had an effect…"

"Why does he want us to bring them back so soon? Did he say?"

She frowned. "No… he just looked all serious and stuff, and then muttered to himself. I've never seen him this agitated before. Anyways, just make sure we get them back ASAP, 'kay?"

He nodded slowly. Why was Chiron suddenly so afraid? Afraid of what – or who?

"Hey, let's get your class in order," she said, an evil grin disfiguring her face. Percy shuddered He did _not_ want to be one of the students.

"Hey buttheads!" she yelled. The class became instantly quiet. She smirked. "Maths. Work. Now. Or else. Capiche?" She grinned in triumph as the class instantly went to work. Except for one guy…

"Or else, _what?_" he asked sarcastically, leaning casually back on his chair, his hands behind his head.

"Oh no, you didn't," Thalia seethed. Percy gulped.

Evidently the guy was a little slow, as he still hadn't caught on. "Come on, babe," he said. "Don't play hard to get…" he grinned suggestively, running his eyes up her body.

_Oh, he's in for it…_ Percy thought, as a crazed Thalia charged towards him. "What did you say!?" Her voice rumbled with supressed fury, and lightning crackled off her ebony hair. Distant thunder boomed. The guy had sense to look a little scared now. "Oh, I am going to kill you!" she yelled, raising her hand to strike. Which was when Percy decided to interfere. He was out of his seat in a second, his arms holding a shaking Thalia back from the cowering senior.

"Okay, Thalia… Calm down," he whispered soothingly.

She screeched. "Don't you dare tell me what to do, Perseus Jackson!" she yelled, and stormed out of the room. The lights in the room flickered.

Percy cleared his throat. "Um… well…" He sank into his seat and groaned, his head in his trembling hands, all thought of maths – and whatever 'trigonometry' was – forgotten.

* * *

"LUNCHTIME!" was what Percy felt like screaming, while waving his hands crazily and pushing through the throng of students exiting the room. Instead, he controlled his ADHD furiously, trying to walk calmly to the cafeteria. It almost worked. At the last possible moment, he let out a loud, insuppressible whoop of exaltation. People turned and stared, but Percy was too excited to care. No more classes for the day!

He scanned the dull, gray cafeteria for Annabeth, as he entered. Even though they weren't meant to eat there, they had decided to find Roxanne and Simon at lunch. He turned as he glimpsed a flash of blonde at the corner of his eye. "Annabeth!" he yelled, over the din of the students.

"Hey, Percy," she replied. "I got us… _lunch_…" she said, emphasizing the word 'lunch'. Percy saw why as he neared the table. What lunch consisted of was more a brownish-grayish gloop, with a side of lumpy, sickly green mush.

"I have eaten some pretty bad things, but _nothing_ as bad as that," he decided. _I think I'd rather starve…_

"Yeah…" Annabeth agreed, swirling the mass of _stuff,_ with the end of her pencil. She made a disgusted face. She wiped the end of the pencil on a napkin and proceeded to add more detail to the temple for Apollo she had been working on.

"Hey," Percy said. "Guess who's here today? Tha – "

"Thalia!" yelled Annabeth, looking more excited than she had been for a while.

"Annabeth!" Thalia shouted back, equally as excited. "It's been ages."

Their greeting had attracted more than a few heads. Especially with Thalia's dark skinny jeans, black, 'blood' splattered shirt, and long, obsidian hair, streaked with electric blue that literally sparked like lightning.

"What's going on?" she asked. "Why are you here?"

"Mr Brunner seemed to think you needed… reinforcements, and Lady A excused me for a while." She slid into the seat gracefully. "What about you? Still working on your, uh… designs?"

Percy noticed that the siblings had surreptitiously entered, but he was wise not to interrupt his cousin and his girlfriend. He wasn't suicidal. He picked at his, well, food, while waiting for the two to finish their chat, even though Annabeth didn't _chat. _He slipped into a daydream about blue cookies, until: BOOM.

An earth shattering explosion erupted. And from the rubble that used to be a cafeteria wall, emerged a hulking figure the size of three Mrs O'Learys – which was _big._ It growled loudly, shaking the window panes – and, in the case of one, shattering it. That's when everyone started screaming and running around crazily.

"What _is _that?!" asked Roxanne, half-standing. She looked less frightened than you would expect, after seeing a giant burst through a wall.

Simon had shrunk back with a, "Whoa!"

"An old… friend…" he replied, pulling Riptide from his pocket.

"Minotaur…" Annabeth breathed, keeping her eyes trained on it, as she pulled her dagger from Hades knows where. "Thalia, get them out of here."

"_Annie_," she whined. "I don't wanna miss out on the fun."

"Just do it."

"Fine," she grumbled.

"Hey, Minnie!" Percy yelled, treading carefully amongst the rubble. "Remember me?"

The Minotaur growled menacingly, mashing its bulging arms together, its muscles rippling.

"Haven't seen you in a while," Percy taunted, keeping its attention away from Annabeth, who was (invisible with her Yankees cap,) sneaking around to the back. "How's it been?"

The Minotaur, seeming to have had enough of 'long time no see' chatter, roared and charged at him, his horns rattling at full speed. Percy dodged just in time, and the Minotaur crashed into the kitchen area. It emerged, covered in what looked like pickled intestines. Percy groaned. "Ugh."

"Hey horn-face," Thalia yelled, brandishing her bow and arrow.

"Thalia!" Annabeth yelled. "You're supposed to be looking after Simon and Roxanne!" Her disembodied voice was a little eerie.

Thalia grinned. "They're fine. Besides, you weren't going to let me miss out on all the fun, were you?"

"Guys, shut up!" Percy said. "On the count of three, we attack. One… two… three!" Pretty much simultaneously, Annabeth had embedded her celestial bronze knife into the Minotaur's back, and Thalia fired a silver arrow into its chest, causing it to howl in agony. Annabeth spun around, administering a ferocious roundhouse kick, and then the Minotaur disintegrated into millions of sulphuric smelling, horrendously yellow particles. "Well…" said Percy. "Guess there's not much for me to do."

"Come on," said Annabeth, trying to wipe monster powder off her face. "Let's get them to camp."

* * *

_Yo, Boss!_

"Hey, Blackjack," grinned Percy. "What's up? And don't call me 'boss'."

_Whatever you say, boss._ Blackjack grinned – well, as much as a Pegasus can grin.

Percy rolled his eyes. "Okay, guys. Let's go."

Simon retreated, pushing his sister behind him. "Whoa, we are _not_ getting on that. What the hell is going on!?"

"Look, man," said Percy, running his hands frustratedly through his hair. "We don't have time to explain now. You have to come with us."

"Nuh uh," Roxanne piped up. "Not until you tell us what is going on. Who are you? What happened yesterday at our house? What was that _thing?_" She crossed her arms defiantly, somehow imposing in her five foot three stature.

Annabeth sighed. "Look, guys. We really don't have the time to explain. Please just come. I promise we will tell you as soon as possible," she cajoled.

No response, except defiant frowns and crossed arms. Annabeth sighed again – she seemed to be doing a lot in the past few minutes. "Thalia?"

Thalia grinned evilly. "Awesome," she whispered dramatically.

"Um… what…?" asked Roxanne, before slumping forward, knocked out cold, followed by her brother.

"Thalia!" Annabeth reprimanded. "Not that hard."

"Whoops," Thalia smiled, not repentant at all.

Annabeth rolled her eyes. Percy grinned goofily at her. "We're going home!"

* * *

**Thanks for reading (and reviewing)! First five reviewers get a sneak peek of the next chapter :) **


	7. Welcome to Camp HalfBlood

**A/N: **Okay, so I'm updating pretty fast mainly because I'm feeling guilty, for a reason unknown to you (for now). All I can say is sorry and please, please don't kill me. Also, because I'm leaving for this hiking/camping thing on Thursday; walking for twenty-something kilometres, sleeping on the ground, doing our 'business' in the bushes… We will have _so_ much fun! (Note the sarcasm there.) Anyway, thanks for everyone who read, reviewed, favourite, followed, and enjoy the chapter.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Percy Jackson and the Olympians_, but I DO own lots and lots of Band-Aids which I know I will definitely need on my trip…

* * *

**Demigods Undercover**

**Chapter VII – Welcome to Camp Half-Blood **

**Simon**

When Simon woke, he felt like he'd been run over by fifty monster trucks, dragged through forests of poison ivy, chewed up by wolves, spat out, and then tossed into a ring of pro wrestlers (which Roxanne loved to watch on TV), and been thoroughly beaten up by them. That is to say – not the best he'd ever felt.

He struggled to open his uncooperative eyes, which were heavy and swollen. Light streamed into the dim room through the crack in the faded, yellow blinds. The room was a little stuffy. When he'd finally convinced his eyes to open, he saw his sister, Roxanne, sitting on a worn, wooden stool beside his bed, idly picking at the split ends in her naturally, stick straight, white-blonde hair.

"Hey, sleeping beauty," she smirked, when she realized that he was awake. Simon could tell that something was bothering her. Her usually sparkling, pale blue eyes didn't shine as they normally did.

He willed one, lethargic, tree trunk arm to hit her softly. "Shut up," he mumbled; his tongue felt thick, making it hard to talk understandably. "How do I look?" he asked. "Tell me the truth, Roxy."

Roxanne sighed, and ran her fingers through his golden blonde curls. "Not… the best," she managed, before choking up slightly.

"Aw… Rox… Don't worry about me." He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, but probably ended up looking hideous and Medusa-like. _Whoa, where did that come from?_ "What's going on?" he asked. The stiff bed was really starting to hurt his sore and possibly bruised back. "Where are we? What happened to me? The last thing I remember was… whoa, wait. Tell me I was hallucinating."

Roxanne shook her head. "Not if you remember the same as me," she said. "I woke up a couple of hours ago, and _they_ were here. They wouldn't tell me anything. They said to wait 'til you woke."

"Who's 'they'?"

"You know, Mr Jackson and Miss Chase. Oh, and that scary, punk girl."

Simon tried to process the new information.

"How are you feeling?" his sister asked him gingerly.

Simon attempted a laugh, wincing as his ribs responded. "Like that time you challenged me to a wrestling duel when I was ten and you were nine," he chuckled. "You completely pulverized me," he admitted.

She smiled at the memory. 'Yeah, and mom was _so_ mad at us. Well, mainly me."

"Yeah…" he reminisced. "Hey, what's that?" he asked, glancing at the plate containing two, lemon-yellow cubes, the size of the top part of his thumb, and a tall glass of a translucent, golden-brown liquid, on the little, bedside table. Cold beads of water slid tantalizingly down the sides of the glass.

"Oh," she said. "They told me to give to you to make you feel better." He blue eyes darkened. "I don't trust them, though."

Simon groaned. "Me neither, but right now, I'd do anything it takes to feel a little better."

Roxanne hesitated, "Are you sure?"

His only reply was a pained moan.

"Fine," she relented, handing him a cube of whatever it was.

It was lemony flavored and chewy. Simon fervently prayed that it was not poisonous. He felt better almost instantly. Grasping the wooden frame of the bed, he pulled himself into a sitting position without too much effort. "Wow," he said in wonderment. His mouth and throat was feeling uncomfortably parched, like sand paper, and the blood coursing in his veins was blisteringly hot. He hurriedly reached for the apple juice-like liquid and gulped it down, as Roxanne watched him, worriedly. There was no real way to describe it. 'It' tasted like his mother's homemade caramel, warm and sticky, and sweet s'mores.

He felt like he could finally beat his sister at wrestling, which was saying something. Although Roxanne was petite, she could beat two hundred pound brutes, without breaking a sweat. People had long ago learned to fear her.

She let out the breath she was holding. "What's it taste like?" she asked.

"Caramel," he replied truthfully. "I wanna go outside."

"Uh, yeah… sure," she said, confused at his sudden change of topic. Of course, let me help you."

"No need," he grinned, and swung himself off of the crumpled bed, and practically bouncing out of the room.

"Some meal," she remarked, and followed her brother out of the cabin, looking somewhat dazed.

Outside, the air was humid and damp, the sky, an even shade of blue, scattered puffs of clouds hanging here and there. Simon stood on the little porch, leaning on the scratched railing, while Roxanne settled herself on a faded, red rocking chair. He fingered a love heart, embellished with the initials S plus C that was scratched onto the wood. He gazed absentmindedly out at the rolling, green hills, and the little meadow of strawberry plants. Rows and rows of fat, juicy strawberries. The distant clash of metal on metal could be heard faintly.

"What's that noise?"

"No idea." Roxanne pushed herself off of the plush chair. "At least our _kidnappers_ brought us someplace nice. Wherever we are."

"Uh huh." The warm, afternoon breeze felt nice on his face. "It looks like some sort of summer camp," he remarked.

"Yeah. A weird, crazy summer camp, where people are kidnapped and taken to."

"Actually," Someone said. "You're right. About the camp part, that is. Not the crazy, kidnapping part. In fact, you two are probably the first we've ever kidnapped."

"Great…" Roxanne said sarcastically. "I feel so special."

Annabeth and Percy materialized, followed by the scary, punk girl who spoke.

"Who are you? Why are we here? What happened?" Simon demanded. His voice shook from suppressed confusion and anger.

"One, I'm Thalia," 'Thalia' smirked. "Two, I will let Annabeth explain the next part. And three, I assume you mean when you blacked out?" Annabeth raise an eyebrow at her. "Yes, well..." she cleared her throat embarrassedly. "I may perhaps have knocked you out… maybe…"

"What do you mean, 'knocked us out'?"

"Well… It was a combination of a well-placed punch, and an electric shock."

"Thalia goes a little overboard sometimes…" Annabeth interjected.

"But how? And even electric shocks don't leave you feeling bruised and sore," he muttered. There was something dodgy going on, not to mention his wounded pride, for being the bed-ridden one, when his sister was perfectly fine. "Besides, how come my sister is fine?"

"That's _not_ my fault," Thalia defended. "That was Algae Breath's doing."

"Algae Breath?" Percy asked, an exasperated yet friendly smile, tugging at the corner of his lips. "That's a new one."

"You were saying?" said Roxanne.

"I may have possibly maybe sort of kinda perhaps dropped you," Percy said, in a very fast, rushed way.

Simon glared at him. "Dropped me?"

"Well, see, we were flying, and we were almost here, but do you _know_ how hard it is to hold an unconscious person, while your mode of transport is doing loop the loops? So you may have fallen a few feet…" he mumbled.

"A _few_ feet? More like a few hundred," he scoffed, "and what was that stuff I ate, and where are we?"

Percy and Thalia both looked towards Annabeth. "You explain," they said in eerily similar voices.

She sighed. "You might want to sit down." Nobody moved. "Okay… Do you know anything about Greek myths?"

"Like the gods and stuff? Yeah, but what has that got to do with anything?" Roxanne crossed her arms petulantly.

Simon started. "Like what you were teaching in world history class on Monday?" He knew there was something odd going on there; the thunder, anger and how she seemed to talk about them in present tense. None of it made any sense, though.

"Yeah, like that." Annabeth explained, taking a deep breath. "Well, they used to come down and well, have children with mortals, right? And these offspring were called demigods. The thing is; they still do so today." She paused, waiting for that to sink in. "And you two, are offspring of a particular god." Her probing, gray eyes seemed to dare them to scoff her, to say it wasn't true.

It couldn't be true. Simon shook his head frantically. "Whoa! Say, what now?"

"Who? Why should we believe you?" Even though Roxanne was somewhere around eight inches shorter than the other girl, she seemed to radiate anger, but Annabeth stared her down – nothing seemed to faze her.

"We don't know," Annabeth said softly. "You must be claimed, though. You should've been, ages ago."

"I don't believe you."

Annabeth sighed. "Percy?" she said.

Percy grinned, his smile curling up to the tips of his ears – well, almost. "Awesome," he rubbed his hands together. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, his dark hair flopped in the wind. A look of complete calmness descended upon his excited features. Suddenly, he lunged forward and lifted his hands off in a flourish. A roar filled the air, followed by a vortex of blue-green water; a tornado of water.

"Whoa!" Simon lurched back in shock. "Oh God!"

"Gods," corrected Thalia automatically.

"Well, that still doesn't explain who our father was – or is – or ugh!" Simon held his head in his hands in frustration.

"Patience, child," a calming voice said. The voice resonated with unwavering wisdom like the sea.

Annabeth grinned. Simon hadn't seen her that excited in a while. "Chiron!" she said, a smile spreading across her face.

"Whoa!" Roxanne yelled. "You're a – a – a horse hybrid thingo! Cool!" 'Chiron' grimaced.

"I prefer the term, centaur," he said.

"Like in _Harry Potter?_"

"Well… I guess." Chiron smiled at them. The lines on his weathered face, crinkling. "I am Chiron, trainer of heroes. You, my children, are sons and daughters of a particular god."

"Why haven't they been claimed?" Percy cut in, his forehead crinkling.

"I do not know. I think it is wise, if we take a trip to Olympus, as soon as possible."

Annabeth nodded in agreement. "Good. I need to go oversee the construction anyway."

"Olympus! As in –?" Simon had never seen Roxanne so panicked before.

Chiron smiled one of his calm, all knowing smiles, but it did not quite reach his wise, old eyes. He took a deep breath and clicked his fingers together, and Simon just had enough time to think, _what is he doing?_ Before sinking into a calm, quiet stupor. A second later – well, at least it felt like a second later he awoke. Everything seemed to make sense now. Roxanne next to him smiled back in the same calm way he felt.

Percy was muttering something about mist. That's how Simon's head felt; misty, foggy, like a big balloon of fuzziness waiting to be popped. Thalia grinned. "Okay, Annie, you show these two to the Hermes cabin, me and Perce need to talk to Chiron."

Annabeth nodded. Simon realized that Thalia was probably the only one Annabeth allowed to call her Annie – not even Percy. "Sure," she said "Come on."

The walked past the patch of strawberry plants, and Simon could not help but salivate over them Annabeth looked upon him with slight amusement. "Come on, we haven't got all day, you know." Simon allowed himself to be dragged away, mournfully. They reached a small 'U' of cabins, each somewhat different-looking to the others.

"You'll be put in the Hermes cabin until you are claimed," she explained, knocking on the door.

The Hermes cabin was the oldest looking cabin of them all. The paint was chipping off the walls, the wooden door was cracked, and the bronze doorknob was tarnished, from overuse. Two guys who looked more similar than just half-siblings opened the door with an almost mocking flourish. Two, identical smiles twisted up their faces, all the way to their elfish, sharp tipped ears. "Welcome… to the Hermes cabin… Muahahahaha."

"Connor, Travis." Annabeth nodded. "These are Roxanne and Simon. They're siblings. Do not. I repeat, do not be your usual selves." Simon didn't like the way she'd said that; it sent shivers down his spine.

"Oh, do not worry, O Wise One," Connor – or Travis (whichever one was taller) grinned. "We'll take _very_ good care of them." He rubbed his hands together, and Simon could almost imagine his sprouting a long, thin evil moustache, curled at the tips.

Annabeth glared. "You'd better. And don't call me that." She spun on her heel and was halfway out the door, into the glimmering sunset, when Travis said:

"Going to make out with Percy, O Owl Face?"

Annabeth – well, growled. He had never seen anyone so angry before. And it wasn't a usual type of anger, which only made it worse. Other than the sound she had emitted, Annabeth looked completely and totally calm; her face blank, like a clean slate. A small, sadistic smile tugged at one corner of her red lips. Simon gulped in fear. Connor gulped in fear. And Travis? Well, to put it simply, he ran away, squealing like a little girl, calling for his mommy. Well, that's what he was probably calling for, because those were cut short by his piecing scream. What caused that piercing scream? Well, let's just say that Travis won't be fathering any children, anytime soon. Annabeth walked away, with a skip in her step, and a smirk spreading across her face. From that moment on, Simon vowed to never, ever cross her.

The sound of a conch horn (Simon didn't know how he knew that) blew, and the twenty or so campers in the Hermes cabin all leapt up, a couple of then shouting: "Dinner!" They lined up, following the Stoll brothers, who argued and shoved each other to lead the line. Travis won, in the end. At least, Simon thought it was Travis – he was the taller one, right? He could see all the other half-bloods marching out of their respective cabins, although he saw that Annabeth surreptitiously snuck out of cabin three, and sprinted over to the gray one.

From the horrendously red cabin, which looked like someone had dumped a ton of ketchup over it, came around ten of the biggest, bulkiest… He wasn't sure if they were human or not. They were led by the fiercest looking girl, he had ever seen. Her stringy, brown hair reminded him of earthworms. Beside him, he could feel Roxanne bouncing in anticipation to wrestle with one of them. But this time, he wasn't sure she'd be able to win.

Percy came out of his cabin, moments later, grinning, his hair sticking up in various directions. He was followed by someone who was at least eight feet tall; Percy was tall already, but this dude was gigantic. Percy said something to that guy, which resulted in him being enveloped into a crushing bear hug. When he was released, Simon could see him doubling over, gasping for breaths. They traversed past the rest of the cabins, into a large pavilioned area. A cracked, wooden sign said: Mess Hall, in Greek. There were long clumps of tables, set in rows, with a large, brass brazier at the right end. Some of the tables were longer than the others.

They sat down at the longest table, as the sun slipped lower into the sky. Long, coral-colored fingers of the sun trailed up, leaving streaks of orange in the navy blue, night sky. The chattering hushed as Mr. D stood up and cleared his throat dramatically. "Welcome back, Peter Johnson and Annie Bell whatshername. Yada, yada, yada. Blah, blah, blah." He was about to sit down when Chiron (Simon was still getting used to him) cleared his throat. Mr. D stood up hastily. "Right, yes," he grumbled. "Welcome Stephen and Rita McDonald – oh fine. Simon and Roxanne Mason. Unclaimed demigods… Welcome… whatever…"

The rest of the campers rolled their eyes, as if they had witnessed Mr. D's welcoming speech many, many times. Plates and plates of food suddenly materialized out of seemingly nowhere. His sister was staring wide-eye at the sumptuous array of food, before abandoning all manners their mother had taught them, and piling mountains of food upon her plate. "What? I'm hungry," she defended herself indignantly.

All the campers stood, almost simultaneously and walked over to the bronze brazier, balancing plates of food. Each camper forked in the most delicious-looking thing on their plate into the glowing embers, and murmured something. "You're meant to put in part of your dinner, and pray to your godly parent. As an offering. They like the smell." Someone explained beside him. It was a guy, maybe a couple of years older than him. "I'm Chris Rodriguez," he introduced.

"Simon," he said. "What if you don't know who your godly parent is?" he asked.

"I did that for several years," he said. "Before I was claimed." His eyes darkened.

"Oh," Simon said, as he approached the brazier. The fire was roaring now, spitting gold sparks. He inhaled the aroma, expecting the odor of burnt food, but was met with decadent smells. He could almost believe that the gods could live on such a smell. He dropped in three of his fattest strawberries, and squeezed his eyes shut to pray. _Please father, whoever you are. Please claim me and Roxanne._ He opened his eyes, as he heard a chorus of gasps. All the campers were looking at a point above his head. Simon looked up, dread pooling in the pit of his belly. It was a symbol, glowing strongly in the backdrop of the blazing flames.

Everyone (who was sitting) stood up, in one, fluid motion. Chiron rose, majestic in the glow of the fiery flames. The shadows flickered on his wise, timeless face. "All hail Simon, son of – "

* * *

**Sorry. Feel free ****to yell at me through your reviews. **

**Um… also, whoever can guess who claimed Simon gets a sneak-peek of the next chapter. **

**Oh, and what do you think the 'S and C' carved into the wood, stands for?**

**Thanks for reading :) **


	8. Nico di Annoying

**A/N: **Thank you guys so, so much! Twenty reviews! Wow. You guys made me so happy. Thank you. You guys are amazing.

Yay! Quick-ish update. But it's not a particularly long chapter.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Percy Jackson and the Olympians._ I would like to own a copy of _The Mark of Athena_, though. I NEED to read it.

* * *

**Demigods Undercover**

**Chapter VIII – Nico di Annoying **

**Roxanne**

_Everyone (who was sitting) stood up, in one, fluid motion. Chiron rose, majestic in the glow of the fiery flames. The shadows flickered on his wise, timeless face. "All hail Simon, son of – "_

"– Apollo. God of music, healing and prophecies."

Simon looked bewildered. His face was contorted into a mask of confusion – his expression was somewhat dazed. An unnatural hush descended upon the campers in the little mess hall. Suddenly, the brazier didn't seem to burn so bright anymore. Every head swivelled to look at Roxanne – or rather, the space above her head. The _empty_ space. There was nothing there, unlike the glowing symbol pulsating softly above Simon. Apollo's symbol.

His eyes caught hers, gold on blue, only a few feet apart, but an ocean of silence between them. What had just happened?

The next moment, Simon was whirled away in a hurricane of movement. Campers swirled dizzily as he was ushered to the Apollo cabin, the others making their way to their respective cabins, the gossip buzzing like a drone in the sunset, until Roxanne was left in the dust, making her way out, with no particular destination.

* * *

Roxanne settled herself underneath the overhanging branches of a weeping willow tree, which drooped mournfully by the shimmering canoe lake. _Apt,_ she thought too herself bitterly. What she really wanted to do was cry – except that she never cried. Not even when in the fourth grade, Johnny Rostenkowski called her a fat weirdo. The light wind lilted the swaying branched of the willow, which rustled soothingly back at her. In the distance, she could hear the clash of metal on metal, and the splash of canoes racing one another.

Why did Apollo claim her brother but not her? That question resounded in her head and she emitted a muffled scream at the injustice. A scratchy whisper startled her, and she whipped around, her blonde hair whipping her face in its ponytail. There was nothing there but shadows – shadows of each intricate leaf, moving with the wind. She turned back around to face the lake. She could see glimpses of bright orange canoes and chipping blue oars through the gaps, where golden fingers of sunlight reached through. It was probably nothing – it _had_ to be nothing.

A polite-sounding – yet mocking cough interrupted her, yet again. This time she ignored it, but the owner of that cough plopped down beside her. She glanced at the newcomer and raised an eyebrow. He looked around fourteen. He smirked at her in return; his dark hair flopped messily into his brown eyes.

"Who are you?" she asked bluntly; she was not in the mood to play games – especially _not_ with some smirking, interrupting, annoying boy who she disliked already.

"Nico Di Angelo," he replied, and held out a hand for her to shake. She stared at him stonily. "Oh… _kay…_" he trailed off. "You're Roxanne Mason," he stated. His smirking was really annoying her now, but she realized that punching him in his annoying face was probably not going to make a good impression on the rest of the campers. But then again, this camp was definitely not normal.

"What do you want?" All courtesy had left her now. In the background, the splashing of the canoes had gradually faded, leaving a descending silence. The sharp bark of the tree trunk dug into her back.

"Just being friendly." He attempted a welcoming smile. "I heard your brother got claimed." He sighed and leaned back into the soft, lush grass. "But not you."

She channelled all her rage into a single death glare, and made to get up and leave.

"Whoa," he said, and pulled down on her arm. "Don't go. I feel for you. Truly."

She huffed. "Fine," she said. "But I haven't forgiven you."

Nico sat up gravely. "I know what it's like to lose a sibling." Everything was even more silent now. Roxanne could hear the concealed pain lacing his words.

"What do you mean, 'lose'? Simon's not _dead_."

Nico smiled softly, sadly, "But he was claimed. And you weren't. You feel betrayed, don't you?" He tapped his fingers lightly on the grass beside him. "I had a sister once. Her name was Bianca. She died a few years ago. She never found out who our father was." He breathed in deeply.

"I'm sorry," she said. The sun was slowly slipping down to the horizon. "Who is your godly parent?"

He looked up her through his thick, dark lashes. "Hades," he said. His voice sounded older, graver for his age, "God of the Underworld."

Roxanne was silent. She didn't know how to process that information. Hades was always portrayed as the bad guy, right? It would explain why Nico seemed to emanate an aura of dark power, shadows and the transient, fading life.

A loud, rumbling sound, like rolling thunder on a humid, summer's day boomed spectacularly, causing Roxanne to jump up in surprise. Beside her, Nico stifled a snort unconvincingly.

"What _was_ that?" she asked, sitting back down on the flattened grass.

"Mrs – O'Leary," Nico choked out, "she's Percy's pet hellhound. Long story," he explained. "Look – over there."

Roxanne peered out from the fringe of the tree, pushing back a few wilting strands. Out there, stood – or rather, sat a massive black creature. Its dark fur glimmered in the diminishing sunlight. "Whoa," she breathed. It looked just like the creature that had attacked her and Simon that last Monday morning. What was it doing here? "That – _thing_ attacked me and Simon on Monday." It was difficult to get Simon's name out.

"Oh no," said Nico. "Mrs O'Leary is perfectly friendly. The hellhound that attacked you was a different one." He paused as she arched her brow at him disbelievingly.

"Oh yeah?" she crossed her arms. "And how would you know that?" she could hear voices slowly approaching, crescendo-ing in volume. It sounded like Percy and Annabeth.

He leaned back cockily, "'Cause I was there." From his pocket he rummaged around and finally extracted the bone-thing that Percy had found the other day.

"What _is_ that?"

"A bone."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I _know_ that. That was exactly what Annabeth said, the other day. I want to know what it _does._"

Nico mirrored her expression and tone. "So, you know I have control over these creatures – creatures of the night, the Underworld, etcetera, yeah?"

"What has that got to do with the bone though?"

"Right. So, because I have control over these creatures, right? This 'bone-thing' is an Ancient Greek weapon. It's like a dart. Orpheus used it when he journeyed to the Underworld. Of course, it works better if you're a child of Hades." He leaned back and brushed the few persistent hairs out of his dark eyes. "So, all I had to do was mutter a bit, and chuck it at the hellhound. I planned it so that just when your brother chucked a stick at it, my dart hit it so it looked like _he'd_ killed it."

Roxanne slumped back in surprise.

"You're welcome, dude."

The voices were at their loudest now, and through the gaps in the leaves, Roxanne could see two silhouettes, darkened by the setting sun. It _was_ Percy and Annabeth. The taller figure was waving his arms desperately in the air; his movements were jerky and panicked. The other silhouette was staring up defiantly up at him, her hands stubbornly resting on her hips. They seemed to be arguing about something. She saw Percy push his hand through his already mussed up hair, with exasperation but they were too far to hear what the argument was about. Nico was watching beside her with a small, curving smile gracing his lips.

She cocked her head to one side questioningly.

Nico simply smirked. "Oh, we get this all the time," he explained. "You'll see."

Annabeth was getting even more aggravated. Her blonde hair glinted in the diminishing sun as it flew around in her fury. The fight was climaxing, and Roxanne watched on with horrified fascination. She could taste the fury mingling in the thick, syrupy air. The tension rose, climaxing to a peak. Annabeth was screaming something at Percy, and even at the distance Roxanne was at, she could see precisely, Annabeth's furious gray eyes, pulsating with wild desperation. Percy was trying to calm her down, but his hands were shaking. And the next moment he was kissing her; his hands gripping her slim waist and her hands in his raven hair. Then together, they jumped down into the lake. The water rippled, like supple cloth, shimmery and dusted with golden rays.

"Whoa," said Roxanne. "What just happened? How can they stay under for so long?"

"Percy's a son of Poseidon," he stated. "He can stay underwater indefinitely. He can breathe, talk, and stay completely dry, too."

"What about Annabeth? She can't be Poseidon's daughter, can she? Wait no, that'd be gross. Ugh."

Nico smirked. "No… she's a daughter of Athena. You do not want to mess with her. It makes her technically Percy's first cousin once removed, or second cousin or something. I don't know; I never really understood these family things. Percy can make an air bubble underwater where they go to you know, make out. It's gross."

Nico leaned back and picked up a pebble, twisting it between his thin, lithe fingers idly. Wordlessly, he threw it into the canoe lake, where it skipped three times before falling into its clear, bottomless depths.

* * *

**This chapter was really a filler chapter, but the action's really going to start in the next one where they go visit Olympus. Why wasn't Roxanne claimed…? Does anyone have any theories? **

**I feel kind of bad. Before, I said that whoever guessed Simon's father would get a sneak peek, but I forgot to mention that you could only guess one, 'cause it's kind of cheating if you just list all of them, so no one got a preview. BUT this chapter, I decided to give a sneak preview to anyone who reviews :)**

**On a completely unrelated note, holidays are about to start! Yes, I know, most of you have just started school, but I don't live in the US. So, yeah… I'm excited :)**

**Thanks again! **


	9. Dreams

**A/N: **One hundred reviews! Thank you guys so, so much. When I first started this story, I was hoping to average around ten reviews per chapter. Now, it's more than twelve. (That sounds a little pathetic actually.) Anyway, thank you!

This is the longest chapter in the entire story so far. I wrote most of it in two days; I just sat and wrote non-stop. The first part was inspired by the place I stayed at the past few days. The water was really pristine and picturesque and I was nearly drenched as I was reading and not paying attention. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter :)

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Percy Jackson and the Olympians,_ but I MUST get my hands on a copy of _Mark of Athena_…

* * *

**Chapter IX – Dreams**

**Annabeth**

The pearly moon cast its radiant beams down onto the tumbling, black waves. The soft lapping of the foamy, lacy edges of the waves soothed Annabeth's mind, as she attempted to finish her designs for Poseidon's temple. She had been working for days, yet the inspiration would not come; her mind was tumultuous with the happenings of the past couple of days, so much so, that she could not concentrate on anything else. Her soft sigh was carried away by the light breeze, and she rubbed her temples in exhaustion. For some reason, the beach helped her to breathe.

She leaned back, steadying herself by her arms. Her hair tumbled back in a wave, and the moon's beams crossed lattices on her bare arms. This temple had to be perfect – he _was_ her boyfriend's dad, after all.

Annabeth whipped around, her battle reflexes heightening, as she heard a light rustling noise and the soft footfalls on powdery, white sand. She unsheathed her knife; its metallic scraping was excruciatingly loud in the silence of the starry night. In one fluid moment she was up. She crouched in a defensive position, her precious blueprints gripped tightly in her other hand, and her eyes darted around the shadowy trees, the adrenaline coursing.

"Percy," she breathed in relief, as her grinning boyfriend melded out of the darkness. The thudding of her heart softened. "What are you doing here in the dead of the night?"

"What are _you_ doing?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

He plopped down onto the silvery sand beside her. "Still working diligently, I see. A true daughter of Athena."

"Thank you," she smiled. "Although, I didn't think you knew what 'diligent' meant."

"Thanks. I mean, hey!"

She stifled a laugh. "I'm kidding, Seaweed Brain. I just really, really need this temple to be perfect. But I have _no_ inspiration. At all."

He placed a comforting am around her. "Hey, it's alright. I'm sure he'll love it no matter what."

"But what if?"

"Hey, he already loves you. Especially anything to annoy Athena."

Annabeth rolled her eyes.

"Come on," he whispered into her hair. "We'd better get some sleep. Olympus tomorrow – or rather today morning."

"Alright," she murmured back. "You go first; I just want to sit out here for five more minutes."

"I'll wait with you."

She rested her head against his chest. The waves lapped at their feet and the coldness nipped at her senses. She sat bolt upright, an idea already formulating in her mind. She could no longer see the ocean, but the magnificent gold and cerulean statue of Poseidon. It was perfect. She snatched her blueprints off the ground next to her and hastily brushed the little clusters of damp sand off. She was about to sketch frantically when Percy stopped her.

"Hey," he said, "seriously. You need rest. You can finish it tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow morning's too late," she insisted. "I need to finish it now." She pulled herself out of his grasp and steadied the papers on her lap. She pulled her legs closer into her body to protect her blueprints from the slithering waves.

Percy grabbed the plans from her and held it high above his head. "I'm not giving these back 'til you promise you'll rest tonight, and finish these tomorrow. Or I'm keeping them."

"Fine," she sighed. Usually she wouldn't be so fast to give in, but this time she knew he was right. The temporary spark that had jolted her awake had faded, leaving her lethargic.

He smiled crookedly. "Goodnight," he whispered, and kissed her lightly, gathering her closer to him.

A rogue wave crashed onto the glistening shore. Percy stifled a snort, as Annabeth emerged spluttering from under the curtain of sea water, completely soaked. "Percy!" she yelled. She snatched her stuff from the damp beach, and scrambled to her feet, chasing after him.

"It wasn't my fault! I swear!" he said, as he sprinted back to the safety of his cabin. Tyson had left that morning, so the cabin was quite desolate, with just him.

"My blueprints!*" She ran after him. Her footfalls lifted little storms of sand.

"I'll dry them for you," he said, holding his arms out as a peace gesture.

She narrowed her eyes. "Fine," she huffed. She held them out hesitantly and stepped lightly into his darkened cabin.

Percy reached out and touched the papers. They dried instantly.

"Thanks," she smiled, and turned to exit.

"Stay." He grabbed her arm as she brushed past him to the door.

"Percy," she laughed, half-jokingly, half exasperated. But she allowed him to pull her closer.

"Come on. What are your siblings going to think when you sneak in at two a.m.?" he said. The creaking door swung on its rusted hinges as Annabeth let it go reluctantly.

"What are they going to think when I don't come back all night?" she retorted. The night was colder and darker now, and it was hard to resist the warmth and heat of his bed.

Sensing that her resolve was crumbling (like a tower of sand), Percy gently pulled her in and closed the door on the silence of the night.

"Fine," she acquiesced, "just tonight." He didn't know so, but Annabeth had been having nightmares, and she thought that maybe, just maybe, having his steady presence would ward them away. Even his drooling comforted her in his weird, own, Percy way.

She climbed into his plush sea-green sheets, steadying herself on the mahogany frame. She looked up at him expectantly.

Percy ran his fingers through his hair nervously. "Uh… I can sleep on Tyson's bed," he mumbled. Redness suffused his cheeks.

"Don't be such a seaweed brain, Seaweed Brain." She rolled her eyes.

"Are – are you sure?" he asked hesitantly.

"Of course. Come one; we have an important day ahead. Or would you rather I go back to my own cabin?"

"No, don't." He scrambled in next to her. "Goodnight, Wise Girl," he breathed.

"Goodnight," she smiled. She felt a pair of corded arms tighten reassuringly around her waist, and felt the soothing whispers of sleep draw her in…

* * *

"Annabeth." Her name resounded in the empty, shattered silence. It was spoken by a familiar voice – a voice that brought back memories of friendship and love and adventure. It was a voice laced with pain, a voice she'd heard speak her name a thousand times, a voice that belonged to one who had betrayed her. It was a voice she never thought she'd hear ever again.

She whipped around. "Luke," she said stiffly, trying to hide the rushing emotions coursing through her, as she surreptitiously reached for her knife.

"There's no need," he said, noticing her intentions. "I'm unarmed. I just want to talk."

His pleading eyes clawed agony down her heart. "Why should I trust you?" She had to fight to keep her voice from trembling, like a leaf in a storm.

His eyes were blue, like she remembered from the good days. The days where he would sing to her and comfort her when she was scared, compliment her, help her when she needed, and tuck her into bed each and every night. That was years ago though. He'd changed.

"Please." That single word hung in the distance between them, almost tangibly. The wind picked up as he made his way slowly towards her, he was holding his hands up as a gesture of peace. He made his way through the soft, green grass, which whispered under each of his footfalls. His blond hair caught fire as the sun slipped lower into the horizon, fading into the dusky twilight.

"Stop." Her voice sounded rusty and unused. "You have one minute. Go." She backed up from him defensively.

"Thank you." He smiled his curving little half-smile. Annabeth sucked in a breath, remembering the times he'd smiled at her like that, making her feel safe, as if nothing would ever hurt her again…

* * *

_The dim alleyway was no more than six feet in width. The crumbling brick walls were constricting, especially for the lumbering creature that was blindly swinging at her. The cold stimulated her senses as she swung at the monster repeatedly. She stumbled on the slippery, grimy floor of the alley. The rain from the night before had not completely dried. _

"_Hi-yah!" she yelled, as with the final thrust of her new knife, the laistrygonian giant exploded in a torrent of monster dust. Her bouncy blonde locks were streaked with dust, dirt and crusted blood. She turned around, brandishing her knife and crouching in a defensive position when she heard the rustling behind her. She straightened up when she saw that it was Luke. _

"_Well done," he smiled. He was so young back then, innocent and scar-less. "Not many seven year olds could take on a laistrygonian all by themselves. That's how I know you're special," he whispered confidentially to her. "I'm proud of you." _

_She remembered feeling warm and loved in that one moment, the only certainly in their life of running, hiding and scavenging. When was the last time her father had said that he was proud of her? Had he ever?_

_And he smiled that curving little smile of his…_

* * *

"Spit. It. Out." Even after all this time, his betrayal still hurt.

He took in a deep breath. "Percy's in danger."

"What? What do you mean?" She could hear the panic resonating in her desperate words. She fought to regain composure.

He sighed. His breath was curling tendrils of cold, fine mist in the frozen, crisp night air. "Beware of the envious one," he said. His eyes seemed to be truly sorry.

"Who? Tell me, Luke, or I swear I'll – "

He shook his head sadly. "I can't tell you, Annabeth. You're a smart girl, though. You'll work it out."

"Luke!" she yelled, but he was already disintegrating. In fact, everything was, as if sucked into a void of darkness.

And the scene changed.

* * *

She was standing in a patch of silvery lace. On closer inspection, she realized that it was moonlace, softly glowing in the darkness, pulsing almost imperceptibly. Bordered on one side of the island, was a flat expanse of onyx-colored ocean. It shone in the light of the solitary moon, and on the other side, there were lightly swaying trees, silhouetted in the starless night.

"Annabeth," she heard. It was almost like déjà-vu. She turned around slowly.

Standing about ten feet away from her was a pretty girl clothed in a floaty, white, muslin dress. Her caramel-colored hair was braided with strands of gold, which hung down her back. Her large eyes, framed with dark, thick lashes watched Annabeth carefully, and her smile was warm but calculating.

"Calypso."

Calypso smiled wider.

"What do you want?" She was in no mood to play games, especially not with the girl who had kidnapped her boyfriend. To be fair, they weren't going out yet, and it wasn't really her fault…

"Percy," she answered. She snapped her fingers, as if calling for a butler or a dog, but, out of the mists shrouding a little section off the beach came a familiar figure. He was tall, with dark, messy hair and a blank look in his usually playful, green eyes.

He made his way obediently to her, never once glancing at Annabeth.

"Good boy," she rewarded. "Say hi to our special guest here."

Percy slowly lifted up his head. His eyes were cold, lifeless and revealed no sign that he knew her. "Hi," he said monotonously.

"Percy… Don't you remember me?" She was choking up.

He shook his head slowly in response. The ghostly wind howled unreassuringly in the background. Calypso turned and grinned triumphantly at her. Then, with a practised precision, she wound her arms around Percy's neck and kissed him. He kissed her back, completely ignoring Annabeth.

_No, no. This isn't real. This cannot be real,_ she thought frantically. _I'm dreaming, I must be._ Horror settled in the pit of her stomach, coiling its way up, and desperately trying to tear itself out.

With a flash, Calypso unsheathed a bronze dagger hidden in Zeus knows where, which was intricately carved with designs of heroes and their quests – the ones that had been sent to her island. The scraping was painfully loud – the only other noise was the sound of soft caresses of the dark waves on the pristine, moonlit sands. And, without even breaking off the kiss, she plunged the dagger into his chest, twisting it deeper and deeper.

"If I can't have him," she smiled, "no one can…" Blood was spurting from his chest, staining her pure white dress, but she didn't seem to mind. No one can…

A horrified shriek tore itself out of Annabeth's throat. It could not be real. It could not be real. It could not be real…

* * *

"Annabeth." This time, it wasn't Luke or Calypso calling, crooning out her name anymore – it was Percy. She struggled to open her eyes in the morning light that streamed through the cracks in the window. She could feel the wetness tinging her cheeks and sliding down the curve of her face. Suddenly ashamed to be crying, she turned her face from him. "Hey, Annabeth, it's okay, it's alright. Tell me what's wrong."

"N – Nothing," she croaked out. "It's fine. Just a bad dream."

"Shh…" He stroked her hair softly as she sobbed into his chest. When was the last time she had let her walls come down so much?

They lay back down. "It's okay. It's alright," he whispered like a mantra.

"I dreamt – I dreamt that you – you were – d – d." She couldn't get it out.

"Annabeth," he said more insistently than before. "Annabeth, just tell me what's wrong. Please."

She inhaled a shuddering breath that rocked her whole body. "It's silly. I'll be fine I just had a nightmare, that's all."

He seemed to realize that she wasn't going to say any more, no matter how hard he pushed her. "Alright then," he conceded. "I just want you to know, that I –"

It was then, that the door crashed open. "Oh," said Roxanne, who was blushing slightly. "Why do we _always_ find you two in compromising situations?"

"We weren't –"

"We didn't –"

"We haven't –"

"We were just –"

"Oh, gods," said Annabeth, holding her face in her hands.

"Can it, lovebirds," said Simon, grinning cheekily. "Get dressed, and we're off to Olympus!"

* * *

"I cannot _believe,_ that the two of you would break the rules in such a drastic manner," Chiron reprimanded gravely. He paced – or rather, trotted agitatedly around in a counter-clockwise direction around the Big House. It was odd that at times like these, one noticed such trivial details.

"We weren't doing anything wrong! We were just –"

"Just _what_ exactly?" Chiron demanded. "You two know that it's against the rules for two demigods of the opposite gender to be in the same cabin alone. Especially all night." The clip-clopping of his hooved on the scratched wooden floor did not help the rising tension in the air.

"We just slept!" Percy burst out. Immediately, he retreated. "Sorry," he muttered. "It just – it just came out."

Chiron sighed. His salt and pepper beard swayed, and the thousands of years of wisdom and pain etched upon his face became suddenly more prominent. "You may go," he said, "but don't assume to get away with this again. You have been warned." He ushered them out the door and into the dawn. Apollo's chariot was just making its way up the horizon, and the sky was a pearly sheen of amber. "Go," he said. "You have an important day ahead of you."

* * *

"This is Olympus?" Simon asked sceptically.

"No, moron," said Roxanne. "This is the Empire State Building.

"Then why are we here?"

"It's the entrance to Olympus," Annabeth explained. "Olympus moves with the shift of Western civilization. Right now, that's the U.S. so it's here. Six-hundredth floor of the Empire State Building." She walked briskly over to the guard. "Come on, guys. Let's get up there before we're hit by the wave of tourists. Already, people with expensive Japanese cameras, families on vacation, and groups of schoolkids were milling around.

They approached the guard. He was reading a thick pink-ish purple-ish book with an owl on the cover. Annabeth thought she saw the word, 'Athena' in gold writing, but the man flipped the book closed before she could get a better look. "Yes?" he asked curtly.

"Sixth-hundredth floor, please."

He raised an eyebrow archly at her. "There _is_ no sixth-hundredth floor, miss." He went back to his novel, haughtily and very intentionally ignored them.

"Look here," seethed Percy. "We're four powerful, armed demigods with possibly many, many monsters after us. Me and Annabeth here, we saved Olympus, okay? If we didn't you'd be unemployed or dead. Now let us through."

"Fine." He rolled his eyes and hit the buzzer with exaggerated slowness. "Hurry up, move along," he mumbled.

"Thanks," Annabeth muttered as they walked into the elevator.

The elevator shot straight up, while the speakers broadcast bad sixties music.

"_Well, I'm your Venus/ I'm your fire at your desire…" _The speakers crooned scratchily. Annabeth made a mental note to redesign and fix the elevator next.

"Someone's got a sense of their own importance," muttered Percy.

She grinned. "That's Aphrodite for you."

The elevator dinged softly, and the doors opened spectacularly, revealing a wide, marble entrance hall, held up by ancient Greek-style pillars that were laced with gold, and a high, dome ceiling paved with intricate gold designs. It was eerily silent. None of the usual bustling works (Cyclops and minor gods) were there. Their footsteps echoed forebodingly on the polished floor.

"Welcome, young demigods." A lady in a flowing, white, ancient Greek style dress walked over. She had on a gold belt and circlet.

"Hera," she muttered.

"_Lady_ Hera," Hera instructed.

Percy bowed awkwardly. "Lady Hera," he said.

Annabeth, however, glared stonily at the goddess.

Hera smiled coldly at her, but her smile grew warm as she reached Percy. "My little hero," she crooned.

Percy shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot and he gripped Annabeth's hand tightly.

"You have great trials ahead of you, I'm afraid. Great, important tasks. I'm afraid they won't be easy." She took a step closer.

Annabeth growled. "What do you mean?" she forced out, through gritted teeth.

Hera just laughed in response, her laughter echoed almost maniacally around the large, empty hall. "You'll see. Farewell for now." Then, she twisted upwards into a single point of light, and disappeared.

"That was Hera?" Simon asked incredulously. "Whoa, we just met a goddess. Wow."

"And you'll meet another one."

Annabeth whipped around. "Mother," she breathed.

Percy attempted a bow again. "Lady Athena," he said nervously. It was no secret that Athena did not approve of him.

"Perseus Jackson," she nodded. "And two new half-bloods, I see." She glanced at Roxanne and Simon.

They stood there in a stretched, awkward silence. Athena stood imposingly at a ten-foot height. "Perseus Jackson," she said finally, breaking the silence. "Come with me. We have much to discuss."

Percy shot Annabeth a desperate, 'help-me!' look. She stared after him helplessly as he trailed after Athena through the magnificence of the hall.

What could Athena possibly want with Percy?

* * *

***This reminds me of the time my friend was reading a book, when this guy dumped his water all over her, and her first response was: "the book!" Unfortunately, it was my book… **

* * *

I wrote in a frenzy to get this updated before October 2nd, before you guys all go and read that and forget about my poor little neglected story :(

**And as a reply to **_**LucyUK**_**, a guest reviewer:** Yes, I will be updating. I get through books really quickly, so MoA will probably take me a maximum of two days to read. Truth: I'll probably stay up all night reading it and then fall asleep in class the next day. Wait, October 2nd is still in the holidays… In that case, I will definitely be finished in a day. And Riordan had better not have ended it in a cliff-hanger again.

Who is the envious one?

What was the book the guard was reading?

Review and you get a deleted scene that I wrote, but couldn't fit into the flow of the story very well. It has something to do with a certain son of Hermes, who pushed our favourite daughter of Athena just a little too far…


	10. The Truth (Part I)

**A/N: **Okay, I was reading through my previous chapters in this story and I have one thing to say: Why in the name of Hades did no one tell me how many mistakes/typos I made!? Maybe you didn't notice? I _always_ proof read, but somehow I missed A LOT. Should I go back and edit them all? I'm really lazy though…

On a completely unrelated note: Has anyone read _Mark of Athena?_ I pretty much stayed up all night reading it. I won't give anything away, though. But wow. Just wow. Some of my guesses we scarily accurate… And now I'm depressed because I have to wait a WHOLE year for the next one.

Anyway, please enjoy the chapter :)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Percy Jackson and the Olympians._

* * *

**Chapter X – The Truth (Part I)**

**Percy**

_Athena stood imposingly at a ten-foot height. "Perseus Jackson," she said finally, breaking the silence. "Come with me. We have much to discuss."_

_Percy shot Annabeth a desperate, 'help-me!' look. She stared after him helplessly as he trailed after Athena through the magnificence of the hall._

_What could Athena possibly want with Percy?_

* * *

"I do not approve of you dating my daughter." Athena's tone was clipped and tight, and as much as Percy didn't want to admit it, it made him shiver and feel like running for his mother.

"I – I'm sorry if I offended you in any way, Lady Athena, but I don't see why –"

Her eyes – so familiar in color – flashed dangerously. In that moment, he saw – he _felt_ the absolute power of true wisdom. He saw the atomic bomb, designed by wisdom (or, rather, smart scientists). He could feel the heat ripple against his burning cheeks, a thousand times worse than the fires of Hephaestus' forges. He could taste the acrid flames and smell the reeking fumes. And he could hear the dying screams of the helpless thousands.

Athena seemed to flicker for a moment. Her entire image turned transparent – as if two superimposed holograms of her were fighting for dominance. For a fleeting second, Percy caught sight of the second Athena. She looked nothing like the goddess who was standing before him a moment ago. She was utterly _not_ composed, her hair wild and her clothes crumpled and unloved. She looked like Athena on drugs. But all of it happened so quickly that Percy wasn't sure if he'd imagined it or not. Maybe his mind, and the visions he had just seen were playing tricks on him.

Percy licked his lips nervously. "Look, Lady Athena. I respect you, I really do. And I _know_ you care about Annabeth, but I do too. I –" he broke off. He tugged subconsciously at his lock of gray hair. "I _love_ your daughter." It was the first time his had ever said that out loud. _Unfortunately,_ he thought, _it was not to Annabeth, but to her _mom. It scared him because he knew that it was undeniably true. "I think I've known it for a long time," he admitted. "And I would never, _ever_ hurt her."

Athena pursed her lips disbelievingly. She scoffed, "Swear upon the River Styx," she said finally, after a tense, pondering silence.

"I swear on the River Styx that I will never hurt your daughter, intentionally, or otherwise."

Athena nodded, satisfied. "You may go, Perseus Jackson. But do not presume that this is the last you will ever hear from me. And if I ever hear a single, little word about you and my daughter…" she trailed off, and this single, lingering silence was more terrifying than any threat she could make. With a sharp, grudging glare, she morphed into a single point of light, expanded, blindingly, searing bright and disappeared. Percy remembered to avert his eyes just in time.

He made his way back to his friends.

"Percy," Annabeth breathed in relief. "You're okay."

"Why wouldn't I be?" For a moment, he debated whether or not to tell her about that moment he though he saw – no, it was better not to worry her. It probably didn't even happen anyway. But he couldn't shake the feeling that something was not quite right. With two goddesses singling him out as soon as he arrived on Olympus, he'd never been more popular, but there was that feeling…

Annabeth looked flustered. "Well, you know… You never had the best relationship with my mother," she explained.

"Oh yeah," Percy reminisced. "Remember when she voted to kill me off?"

"Wait," Simon said incredulously. "She tried to _kill_ you?"

"Talk about protective mothers…" Roxanne said. She grinned impishly. "She must hate you."

Percy shrugged. "She thinks I'm dangerous and it doesn't help that her rival, Poseidon is my dad. Luckily, the majority of the gods decided to let me live, so here I am."

"I'm glad," said Annabeth, with a small smile. "Come on. Let's go."

They entered the spectacular throne room of the gods. Although Percy had seen it a few times before, he still felt as if the breath was being sucked out of him as he surveyed the room. Twelve thrones for each of the Olympians were arranged in a U shape with Zeus, king of the gods at the very center. To say that they did not look happy would be an understatement. The 'sky' or rather, ceiling rumbled with thunder and every now and then, from the dark gray clouds would crackle lightning.

But beyond the twelve, there were hundreds of other (smaller) thrones, each with a unique hue, shape and material. They were for the minor gods and goddesses – Zeus had kept his word, and let Annabeth design these for the formerly unacknowledged gods. They'd even constructed a throne for Hades. It was made of dark, reflective obsidian, its black sheen pulsating slowly in the light. It was simple, yet ornate and was located much closer to the Olympians than the rest. At the base of the throne, was constructed a smaller, human-sized seat, of the same design, and perched uncomfortably at the end of it, was Nico di Angelo. He nodded at them slightly.

"Hey Nico," said Roxanne. Sixteen pairs of eyes swiveled to look at her. Demeter's wheat-colored eyebrows almost shot off her forehead, judging by her scandalized expression. She didn't seem to notice – or just didn't care. Percy thought that was extremely brave – or stupid, or both, of her, especially as there were twelve angry Olympians in the room who could turn her into a pile of ash instantaneously. "What are you doing here?"

Nico glanced up expressionlessly. "My _father_ apparently 'has better things to do' so he sent me. I'm not a lapdog, you know," he responded listlessly.

"Well, nice to see you!" She smiled perkily.

There was a distant rumbling sound. Then, Percy realized that it was the sound of Zeus clearing his throat. He was glaring at them expectantly.

The four first kneeled at the base of Zeus' throne. It towered over them and Percy could not help but imagine the gruesome death he would die if Zeus – at his twenty-foot height – at the moment, accidently (or purposefully) stepped on him. He'd really rather be remembered as: Percy Jackson: the awesome dude who saved the world, not: Percy Jackson: the loser who was squished to death, like a bug by his own uncle… He knew he was being irrational, but still. Zeus' aura of power was _not_ something you'd want to test.

"Lord Zeus," Annabeth said in a placating tone.

He nodded at her gravely. What was with the gods today? They all – even Nico, looked as if someone had stuck one of Mrs. O'Leary's giant dog bones up their –

His train of thought was interrupted by Annabeth saying, "Mother." She kneeled.

Percy gulped at the expression on Athena's face. She seemed to mentally reviewing all the ways she could kill him. Maybe he was just being paranoid, he told himself. He took Annabeth's action as a cue. "Father," he said. Poseidon smiled warmly down at him. The laugh lines on his tanned, weathered face crinkled.

"Son," he replied simply.

Simon paid his respects to his father. There was an awestruck expression on his face – it was the first time he'd ever met his father. Percy remembered the first time he'd met Poseidon. It was one of his best memories but not something he had ever wanted to endure again. He turned to see Roxanne standing alone in the center, looking utterly bewildered and lost. It was very different from her usual mischievous smiles and troublemaker, happy glints in her blue eyes.

She looked hopelessly lost.

Percy stepped forward and held his hands out as a gesture of peace. "Lord Zeus. We have come here today for an explanation. You promised – all of you. You swore upon the River Styx to claim all your children by the age of thirteen. These siblings: Simon and Roxanne Mason. They're sixteen and fifteen respectively. _Why_ haven't they been claimed?" His voice was more aggressive than usual – it was shaking, almost. "Why was Simon claimed by Apollo but Roxanne unclaimed? I come here today to demand an answer. Oath-breaker."

For the first time, Zeus appeared uncomfortable, but his voice betrayed no emotion whatsoever. Annabeth gripped his hand tightly. "Technically…" he said slowly. "The siblings aren't thirteen."

"Dum, dum, dum, dum…" Nico muttered. He wouldn't meet any of their gazes.

Annabeth breathed in sharply. "What do you mean: '_not technically thirteen'_?"

Zeus nodded to Athena who took the cue to start explaining. "They had a blessing placed upon them. This blessing speeds up their growth process. So they are both mentally and physically the age that they are told they are, but technically, in human years, they're around twelve." She sat back, as if waiting for someone to contradict her.

Their reactions were as follows:

Simon: spluttering and choking, as if he'd just swallowed a gallon of salt water, "What!?"

Roxanne: opened and closed her mouth like a fish.

Percy: blinking rapidly.

Annabeth: didn't look so stunned – more thoughtful, as if the idea had come to her before – which made sense, considering she was the smartest person Percy had ever met.

And Nico, who just sat there, completely unfazed and very bored.

"Okay," said Percy nervously. "All right. Okay." He breathed in and started pacing. "Great. But that _still_ doesn't explain why. And why Roxanne wasn't claimed."

"Yeah," Roxanne chimed in.

Apollo heaved a sigh. "The reason I didn't claim you, Roxanne, is not because I don't _want_ to; it's because I can't." Roxanne crossed her arms and fixed him with a steely look. "Okay, let me see if I can explain this next bit with one of my own haikus – that I compose myself. _Ahem –"_

"NO!" shouted Percy, Annabeth and a few other gods.

Apollo looked affronted. "Fine," he sniffed, "I'll explain the boring way. You see, Roxanne, you're not actually my daughter."

* * *

**Hey, this story is almost over :( Please go VOTE on my poll to tell me which of the stories I should write next. Please :) Thanks a lot. **

**And please review. Even if you only write one word, I'll still be extremely happy. Seriously, I don't mind if you literally write 'good job,' or something. It only takes two seconds. Or you can write negative comments, if you don't think my writing is worthy of praise. **

**Anyway, thank you for reading :) Next chapter will be up ASAP. **


	11. The Truth (Part II)

**A/N: **Hey! Don't kill me! It's only been what? A week and a half? I have a valid excuse: my hard drive crashed. Seriously. But my dad managed to fix everything (saving us a few hundred dollars) except the _actual_ hard drive. So… I lost everything that wasn't backed-up – which isn't a lot, since I'm _big_ on backing things up. So… yeah. I hope you enjoy :D

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Percy Jackson and the Olympians_ or whatever _Harry Potter _references I've made.

* * *

**Chapter XI – The Truth (Part II)**

**Roxanne**

_Apollo heaved a sigh. "The reason I didn't claim you, Roxanne, is not because I don't want to; it's because I can't." Roxanne crossed her arms and fixed him with a steely look. "Okay, let me see if I can explain this next bit with one of my own haikus – that I compose myself. Ahem –"_

"_NO!" shouted Percy, Annabeth and a few other gods. _

_Apollo looked affronted. "Fine," he sniffed, "I'll explain the boring way. You see, Roxanne, you're not actually my daughter." _

'What the hell!?' was her first thought, and 'what that hell!?' was what she blurted out.

"It's Hades, actually," injected Nico, who still looked utterly bored and not at all surprised by this sudden revelation.

"Shut up, Nico," she muttered. It was too much to take in, even without an annoying Goth-boy drawling smart-aleck comments at her. It wasn't really the fact that Apollo wasn't her father – she hadn't completely been convinced that all this was real – not until she'd seen Olympus, that is. So she hadn't spent most of her life thinking that he _was_ her father, it was mostly because she _had,_ however, spent all her life thinking that her brother was, well, her brother. Now, it seemed like she was wrong. And she couldn't get her head around it.

Apollo smiled sympathetically down at her.

"Wait… What?" Simon had finally caught on. "You're not – she's – wait – father? – what?" he stammered. "Does that," he licked his lips nervously, "does that mean she's not my sister?"

"Well… more like half-sister, really."

"So, we have the same mother, right?" she said. "Don't tell me that's not true, either."

Apollo nodded. "Catherine Mason… Yes… She's your mother."

_Okay,_ Roxanne thought. _I can handle this. I can handle this. I can handle this. I can't handle this. _ "So, wait. If she's my mother _and_ Simon's mother, then who's my father?"

Apollo shifted nervously in his seat. "Well –"

"Isn't it obvious?" Nico said.

Roxanne shot him a death glare (oh, the irony.)

"Yes…" Annabeth muttered. "It all makes sense now. I see. Yes…" she mumbled to herself. "Everything makes sense now…"

"Excuse me," Simon asked, bafflement etched across his features. "_What _makes sense now? Can someone _please_ explain what's going on?"

Percy looked equally puzzled. "Annabeth…?" he said tentatively.

"Hermes," she said finally. "It's you, isn't it?"

Roxanne felt her breath hitch and saw heads (out of her peripheral vision) turn sharply.

Hermes (or, at least, the one Roxanne assumed to be Hermes, as everyone else was looking at him) shifted uncomfortably on his throne. "You were always a smart girl, niece."

Annabeth nodded to the compliment.

He cleared his throat and looked straight at her. Could it be…? Was he really her father? His eyes were light blue – like fragments reflecting off the sky. His white-blonde hair was so similar to hers.

"Daughter," he said.

"_You're_ my father?" she asked, almost incredulously. Too late, she realized that it probably sounded extremely offensive.

He nodded in the affirmative. "I wanted to claim you – I really did, but my dear brother, Apollo beat me to it. And father," he nodded to Zeus, "wouldn't let me claim you 'til now."

Annabeth crossed her arms. "Explain."

Hermes nodded. "My brother, Apollo, fell in love with Catherine Mason first. They had a kid, Simon," he gestured to Simon. "And the, almost a year later, I did too. Your mother was an extremely attractive –"

"Okay! Okay, father. I really didn't need to hear that," Simon said.

"Uh… sorry," he replied, "anyway, at the time, I did not know that her son, you," he nodded to Simon, "was the child of my brother. And she never told me, either. And then we fell in love and you know what happens next…"

Roxanne didn't think she'd ever be able to get that image out of her head.

"When did you find out?"

"Well, _actually…_" he chucked nervously, "not until a couple of weeks ago."

Percy choked, "Wait, what!?"

Apollo cut in. "We didn't figure it out until Chiron informed us that you two had found two demigods – over the age of thirteen. Then, Zeus questioned us, one thing led to another and we… figured it out."

"So, you're saying that you two," Annabeth stared pointedly at the two of them, "didn't realize that you had kids with the _same_ woman, and didn't know they even existed until a few weeks ago?"

"That takes bad parenting to a whole new level," Percy muttered quietly.

Roxanne did not miss the fact that Hermes would not look her in the eye.

"I want to know something," Percy declared. "You all," he fixed all the Gods (and Nico, except, not really him) with a steely glare, "promised me something last year, on the River Styx. You promised," his voice echoed around the vast, gilded room, "that you would claim _all_ of your demigod children, by the time they turned thirteen." He spoke slowly, sweeping his eyes over each of the gods. Roxanne had never seen Percy so terrifyingly calm before. Like the proverbial calm before the storm.

Apollo and Hermes sat, their eyes shifting guiltily. Zeus, (well, the one sitting at the very center of the formation) did not look particularly interested, and the god in the black leather jacket was cleaning his gnarled nails with a butcher's knife.

"I demand an explanation."

The _Harry-Potter-Great-Hall-_esque ceiling rumbled with thunder and flashed with cracks of sizzling lightning. For some reason, the only thought in Roxanne's head at that moment, was the fact that lightning strikes the highest/closest point to it, and with the magnificent, twenty-foot tall gods surrounding her, she safely presumed she wouldn't get struck.

Other than that, the Olympians were silent. She saw Annabeth grip Percy's arm in assurance. The silence stretched on, tense and simmering.

A small cough made her jump. All heads swiveled to the goddess directly beside Zeus. She gave them all a beautiful, yet sickly-sweet and simpering smile – _Dolores Umbridge_-style. _Wow,_ she thought; she was spouting off a lot of _Harry Potter_ analogies today. "If I may," she smiled, "I think I have a plausible explanation."

For some reason, Annabeth tightened her grip on Percy's arm – although he didn't seem to notice it – and made a small hissing noise – almost like a stream of rapidly flowing curse words. Percy nodded tensely for her to continue. "Well –"

"Wait!" Apollo interrupted. He was scrolling inhumanely fast through his iPhone. "How old are you, Simon?"

"Thanks for remembering my age, dad," he muttered, low enough for the gods not to hear, but Roxanne could. But then again, the gods probably had superhuman hearing. "Sixteen," he answered out loud.

Somehow, Apollo's phone had morphed into an iPad, which he was rapidly tapping through. "It says here… wait… that I only met your mother eleven years ago. But, then – how?"

Hera interrupted, once again, "Like I was explaining, I actually knew of this."

And, once again, all heads swiveled to her.

She seemed to like being the center of attention. "I'm the goddess of marriage. I _know_ when someone is being unfaithful. Actually, Aphrodite picked up on this too, didn't you?"

For the first time, Roxanne set eyes on the goddess of love. Her only thought was: wow. Why don't I look like that? Roxanne wasn't really the type to be self-conscious, but Aphrodite had an aura around her that just makes you feel inadequate and insecure. Her hair morphed from brown to blonde to red, and her eyes were a kaleidoscope of colors. It was like a ripple, blossoming out, and her features perpetually changing. It all made her quite dizzy.

Aphrodite nodded without any particular zeal, but instead, looked at Annabeth with a sly look. "Aw… You two make such a _cute_ couple," she purred. "Best couple since Helen and Paris! We definitely need some more drama…"

Hera coughed. "As I was saying, I knew that the two demigods had been born."

"Why did you not inform us, dearest wife?" Zeus all but growled.

She smiled sweetly, "I did not see why you needed to know." Thunder rumbled, once again.

Percy cleared his throat. "That still does not explain how they're fifteen and sixteen respectively, but Apollo claims that he hadn't met their mother until ten years ago."

"I'm getting there, darling," Hera crooned. "Anyway, I figured their birth would cause some unrest, sibling rivalry, etcetera, so I, uh… may have sped up their growth process a _teensy_ bit."

That did not make any sense at all. At all.

Simon spluttered, "What!? Wait. Does 'sped up their growth process' mean what I think it means?"

"You meddled in affairs you did not have the right to meddle in, again!?" roared Zeus. The air was aflame with vicious anger. _Wow, what a temper,_ Roxanne reflected.

Hera had the grace to smile placidly back at her husband, but her hands shook, just a little. "It was necessary, my Lord," she replied steadily.

"Let's get out of here," Percy muttered. They surreptitiously slipped out of the hall, but the gods were in such a disarray that none of them noticed the four slipping out, and running for their lives.

Outside the Empire State Building, on the bustling streets of New York, people were running for cover. In the space of the half-hour they were up there, the weather had taken a sudden plunge. The sky was the storm-gray of Annabeth's eyes and the severe gusts of wind forced little hurricanes of leaves and mud-stained newspapers around. "Wow," she exhaled, "Zeus is mad."

"Yeah," Simon agreed fervently.

They could barely hear one another over the resounding cracks of hailstones bouncing off the cars on the crowded roads.

"Come on," said Annabeth. "Let's IM Chiron and tell him that we may not be back soon…"

* * *

**Sorry for the crappy chapter. I hope you're satisfied with the explanation. Well, there goes my plot twist… I hope that was to your expectations because I don't believe in stories without plots, and plot twists just make it so much better :D So, yeah. I hope you enjoyed.**

**This story is (sadly) coming to an end in one more chapter and an epilogue. D: **

**By the way, I have end of year exams coming up soon, so I won't be able to update very often. I'll try my best, though. **

**Please check out my new story, Letters. Thank you! :D**


	12. Again

**My life has been so hectic these past few months. But I won't give you excuses other than that and I am SO, SO sorry. I feel terrible. But here is the penultimate, chapter and I hope you guys don't hate me. (Happy belated new year.)**

* * *

**Chapter XII: Again**

**Percy**

"Again?" Percy groaned as he laced his fingers through Annabeth's. "Ugh."

Annabeth smiled. "It'll be all right. Remember, Chiron promised that this'll be the last one." She tugged his arm lightly. "Come on; think about the rest of summer. This'll probably only last a few more days, anyway."

She dragged him up the steps.

Percy wrapped his arm around her waist. "Okay," he breathed. "Okay."

This school was different. It was more raucous, more uncoordinated than the last. The architecture was older too; the low, claustrophobia-inducing ceiling was smeared with grime and the imprints of long fallen clumps of wet toilet paper. He followed Annabeth down the hall.

It was later in the day, just after morning break. All the students were in class, yet the noise level did not fall beneath a very high decibel.

"What class am I taking today?" Percy asked.

"There's only one demigod that we know of here."

"So…?"

She increased her pace, avoiding the open doors with the students inside staring out at them. "So, we'll be together."

"Awesome." Suddenly, the prospect of his day seemed so much better. "Wait. Which class?"

Annabeth grimaced, at looking at him. "English."

Percy swore internally. "Hades," he muttered. "Why can we never have a break!?"

"Because we're demigods," Annabeth said simply.

"But… I think I'd rather fight some laistrygonians than… _this_."

"Be careful of what you wish for." Although her tone was a joking lilt, he heard the hard warning behind them. They both knew the dangers. They'd both suffered the consequences.

"So… What's our battle strategy?"

Her forehead creased. "I thought we'd do something that involves less reading."

Percy grimaced. Reading was pretty much on his blacklist of things to do; right down there with flying and a dip in the Styx. He remembered that one time in fifth grade when he'd confused two words and became the laughing stock of the class yet again. That was right before he'd been expelled. _Again._

Sensing that he was in a reverie, Annabeth pulled on his arm a little more forcefully. "Come on. We're going to be late," she said.

"What room?"

She checked her instructions, helpful translated into Greek. "Uh… 221B." She quickened her pace. "The demigod. There's nothing about him or her here. Where _is_ it? Chiron told me there was information on the demigod on the last page: name, age, physical description, Godly parent, et cetera."

"Well, we do know his or her age, right? We're in a middle school. This demigod is under thirteen."

"Very helpful, Percy," Annabeth snapped. "Where _is_ it!?"

Percy froze. "Uh… Is it, by any chance, on an A4 sized piece of off-white paper, with perhaps a light marking on it?"

"Yes, it is. Wait. _Marking?"_

"Um…"

Annabeth breathed in sharply. "Percy Jackson. What 'marking'?"

"See… I was perhaps drinking some blue coke and-I-spilt-a-bit-and-threw-it-away." The last part came out in a mumbled stream. "I thought it was just scrap paper. I swear." He held his hands up in a surrender peace motion.

Annabeth rolled her eyes, clenching her jaw. "All right. We'll just have to go by our 'special demigodly powers'."

"What special dem-. Oh. Right. Sometimes I can't understand your sarcasm, Annabeth."

"Sometimes, you're just too much of a seaweed brain to." She smirked. "I was joking. I do remember her name. Casey Anderson."

They reached a simple looking door, painted an ugly greyish bluish gloop. A scratched, thin plaque informed them that it was classroom 221B. "Brace yourself." She smiled.

Entering the classroom was like leaving behind his last shred of sanity and descending straight into well, insanity. They were something like five minutes late for class and the students were in mayhem. Percy had never seen a group of middle-schoolers so aggressive. They (well, a select few) were throwing paper and various miscellaneous stationary at each other. Annabeth, of course, was slightly calmer.

"Class," she yelled. "Hey! Shut up!" It worked. They swivelled around, mid-scream, to look at her.

"Thank you."

Percy stood there uselessly.

"Who're you?" The question was phrased by a girl with stringy brown hair that had a reddish cast. Her eyes were pale blue. She couldn't have been more than twelve, but she was taller and buffer than most of the other kids.

"We are your substitute teachers for Mrs. Evans, is that correct?"

One of her pals sneered. "You're too young to be teachers."

"And you're too young to be wearing a top that barely covers your midriff, which I'm sure is against the rules," she shot back.

Several people snickered.

"Anyway, I'm Miss Chase, and I'm going to take attendance now. If you talk out of turn, Mr. Jackson will take you outside, is that clear?"

Percy jumped slightly. Wow, she was scarier than most of his teachers combined.

"Casey Anderson," she called.

"That's me."

Percy groaned internally. It was the bully girl with the scarily pale eyes. It occurred to him that she quite strongly resembled his childhood traumatiser – Nancy Bobofit. Annabeth must have felt the same, because her eyes flashed dangerously. But she went on.

The rest of the lesson was quiet, with Annabeth's scary presence at the front of the class.

And after the lesson, they'd cornered Casey, and taken her straight to Camp, bypassing her parent's house because according to Chiron, 'there's no time for that anymore'.

* * *

Home. Percy could feel it; the thick scent of strawberries in the air, the tangy sea breeze, and the lush green grass. He could feel his lush bed calling to him from the Poseidon cabin.

Annabeth leaned her head on his shoulder. "Finally," she said, voicing his thoughts.

Casey rolled her eyes. "Hello? I'm still here. Your happy sappy lovey dovey thing is making me wanna puke."

Annabeth rolled her eyes. "Come on, let's go see Chiron."

* * *

The ocean waves were blackish in the night.

Annabeth sighed. "I feel like we have so little time together."

Although Annabeth was living in New York now, she was still going to this expensive all girls' private school that was supposed to guarantee you a good future. With all her work, they barely got to see each other once in a fortnight.

"Hey, we've still got the rest of summer to spend together. We can go swimming, hunting, you can kick my ass at sparring…"

"You bet I will."

"I look forward to it."

* * *

**Thank you so much for not abandoning me. I am so, so sorry.**

**I promise, as soon as this reaches 150 reviews (only eight away) I will update. Seriously. I'm starting the next chapter as soon as this is posted. **


	13. Epilogue

**Demigods Undercover**

**Epilogue**

**Annabeth**

It was cold. The December air was harsh and biting, but as soon as she entered the safe enclosure of camp, it was warm again. It had been almost half a year since she'd been here, and almost a month since she'd been with Percy for more than a few hurried moments. It was safe to say that Annabeth Chase was excited, like super-mega-duper-jump-in-the-air-screaming excited. She grinned involuntarily. Three whole weeks with Seaweed Brain, _at camp,_ was something she'd been dreaming about for ages.

The squealing tyres of an old car startled her. She spun around. "Percy!"

He grinned his goofy smile, lighting all the way up to his eyes. "Annabeth! He leaped out of the drivers' side and wrapped her in one of his gigantic hugs. He smelled of salt, sea breeze, and a lingering aroma of blue cookies. "It's been too long."

She laughed and kissed him. He smiled against her lips and ran his fingers through her tangled blonde hair.

An amused cough startled them apart. Paul was leaning casually of the side of his Prius, one corner of his mouth upturned in an almost smirk. "Morning, kids. Having fun?"

Annabeth blushed. "Hey, Paul. How's um, work?"

"It's been good, good, yeah. Everything's good, except Percy's driving scares me a little bit, though."

"What did he do?" Annabeth leaned on her boyfriend's shoulder. She knew that his driving was not the best, especially regarding his inability to focus of menial, mundane tasks. But that was something she could relate to.

Percy looked affronted. "Come on, the speed sign definitely said eighty, and – and I swear I saw a hydra at the side of the road." Annabeth smirked, unconvinced.

He poked his tongue out at her.

Paul rolled his eyes. "Sure, sure. Well, you kinds have fun," he said. "But not _too_ much fun, all right?"

Now it was Percy's turn to blush. "Bye, Paul," he muttered. "Say 'hi' to mom for me."

"Bye, Paul."

"Bye, kids." He revved the engine, spun the car around, and was gone.

Annabeth grinned at Percy. She had been looking forward to now for so long. Three weeks together after months of a small scattering of dates seemed like an eternity (in a good way). They could go sparring (where she'd still kick his butt, no matter about his Achilles Heel), surf at the beach (it was protected by the charms of Camp), attempt to avoid the Stoll brothers' pranks together, and maybe perhaps meet up at the bottom of the Canoe Lake once in a while…

Percy leaned down and kissed her softly. "Three whole weeks." He grinned. "I can't wait!"

* * *

Dinner was quite uneventful. Still sweating and panting from an intense sparring match (they were both a little bit off balance) the stumbled to the mess hall in each other's arms. They said 'hi' to Simon and Roxanne who had settled into life at Camp and as a demigod quite well. But they had to sit at different tables – they were not yet ready to test out Chiron (and Mr. D's) patience. Food was awesome as usual. Percy gave her these adorable shy smiles every time she looked up to see him alone at his table.

Later at the campfire, roasting s'mores and singing along to the usual bonfire songs, Annabeth felt at home. Percy's arm was warm and comfortable around her shoulders, the only dampener on the mood was perhaps Drew, the head of the Aphrodite cabin, who would shoot her these sickly lip-glossed smiles which didn't quite reach her eyes. But Annabeth didn't care.

Slowly, the fire died down, and the campers gradually left in small clumps. Percy and Annabeth walked slowly back to her cabin. For some reason, even after a warm dinner and sitting in front of a warm fire with friends, she did not feel sleepy at all. Something tingled at the back of her mind.

Percy's face flickered with the orange shadows of the fire hanging in the brackets. His eyes reflected the warmth. "Goodnight," he whispered. "I'll see you tomorrow?" He kicked at the grass shyly.

"Of course." She smiled.

He kissed her, only a soft goodnight kiss as half her cabin was leaning out the window to watch. She ignored them.

"Goodnight," she murmured, and ran up the stairs, watching him traipse all the way back to his cabin, until he disappeared in the embrace of the night.

Something felt wrong.

* * *

Annabeth couldn't sleep. The window unshuttered and the moonlight swept across her face, lingering there until she opened her eyes. She let out a long sigh. Checking to see that her siblings were all asleep, she delicately slipped off her bed, glad that she had worn something quite substantial to bed. Padding across the floor, she opened the door and felt the coolness of the night air wash over her.

Careful not to disturb anyone that might be awake, she slipped on her cap and ran silently, invisibly to the low sitting, smooth stone cabin.

Percy was snoring very lightly when she entered.

"Percy," she whispered.

His response was to flip over to his other side.

"Percy!"

He jolted awake, fumbling for Riptide.

"It's okay. It's just me; Annabeth." She pulled off her cap, letting her hair tumble over her shoulders.

Percy was breathing heavily. "You scared me. Gods, Annabeth."

"Sorry." She smirked. He was okay. Maybe the premonition she felt was nothing. Maybe it was just stress.

"What're you doing here?" He yawned.

"Just checking to see if you were okay," she answered. "Plus, I couldn't sleep."

"I appreciate your concern," – he yawned again – "but I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

Annabeth frowned. "I don't know. I just had this feeling that something bad was going to happen.

Percy smiled at her soothingly. "Everything's okay," he said. "And since you're here now, why don't you stay? You don't want to risk being caught sneaking in, do you?"

"Ha ha, very funny." She laughed sarcastically. "But remember what happened last time I stayed? No, I don't think I want to go through that again."

Percy pouted. "Fine, then."

She laughed. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

But the nagging feeling did not disappear. "Promise me one thing," she said.

"Anything."

"Promise me… that you'll always be here."

"Of course."

"Thank you." She leaned down and kissed him softly. "Goodnight."

"Goodbye."

Annabeth turned around to look at him one more time before she closed the door. He'd already drifted off, his long, dark lashes fluttering against his moon-washed face.

* * *

She woke up. It was cold. No one else was awake, but that was usual; she was definitely an early riser. Something told her to go check on Percy. She crept out of the cabin and down the stairs, traipsing across the dew beaded grass to his cabin.

As soon as she entered, she could feel that something was not quite right. It was too cold and quiet. Percy was never so silent when he slept. The covers were rumpled and half dangling off the bed, trailing onto the floor. She shivered.

"Percy?" Her voice had a distinct quiver. Percy, where are you? Don't play games with me."

The only response was a fluttering of the curtains.

"Oh, gods," she muttered. She sank onto his bed.

Springing up suddenly, she sprinted out of the cabin, down the pathway to the lake. But there was no one there apart from a couple of nymphs yawning and groaning.

Annabeth spun on her heel, her heart throbbing, thumping, as she ran in the other direction towards the beach. She strained to get there faster. But the only sight that greeted her was the desolate sandy shores, and the continual lapping of the gray-tinged ocean. She swore under her breath.

"Percy?" she yelled desperately, but she knew he wasn't there. Somehow she could feel it. Somewhere inside of her, she knew.

The only other option was the Big House.

She burst through the doors. Mr. D opened one eye lazily to greet her. "Do you know, what in Zeus's name, the time is right now, Annie-Belle?" He yawned.

Annabeth ignored him. "Where's Chiron?"

"Learn to treat your superiors with more respect," he drawled.

She clenched her fists. "I don't have time for that right now," she hissed. "I _need_ to speak with Chiron.

Mr. D sighed. "Fine… he's over there." He pointed one chubby finger to his left.

"Thank you," Annabeth managed, as civilly as she could.

She entered the room. "Chiron?"

"Yes, Annabeth?" Chiron was standing in the middle of the room, looking slightly sleep-deprived.

"Percy's missing," she said bluntly.

* * *

By now, the news had travelled around camp and everyone knew. They huddled around the impromptu campfire they had built.

Annabeth fought to keep her composure.

Murmured condolences were directed at her but she paid them no attention.

She pushed her way through the crowd and entered Cabin Three. Everything she'd known was still there. His clothes thrown over chairs, candy wrappers, and a couple of blue crumbs probably from Sally's snacks she usually packed for him. Everything, but him.

Percy was gone. He'd broken his promise.

* * *

**Thank you so much for sticking with me this entire time. And to those who have just come this chapter and to those in the future, thank you. **

**Please leave a review (last chance!) It would be really great to get to 175 or something. **

**And yeah, sorry about the depressing ending.**

**On another note: I will here shamelessly self-promote my writing.**

**Please go check out **_**Letters**_** if you haven't already. I'm working on the next chapter now. **

**Thank you so much!**


End file.
